


Red Rabbits

by bloodydamnit, Jeni182, SeaBear13, windeavesdrops



Series: Red Rabbits Universe [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Investigative Journalism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Podcast!AU, its v brief and non-explicit, tagged chapter by chapter in authors notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 292,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodydamnit/pseuds/bloodydamnit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeni182/pseuds/Jeni182, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaBear13/pseuds/SeaBear13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/windeavesdrops/pseuds/windeavesdrops
Summary: They've been missing for 15 years.





	1. Episode 1: Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They've been missing for 15 years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone! Finally, we know that this has taken a long time to get out - but it's here, and we are finally fucking ready. To preface, from this point on, any and all comments, authors notes, endnotes, etc, will be written through either Andrew or Renee. This is the beginning of what we are planning to be, a complete interactive fic. That means, we will be engaging with the audience as much as possible, through the guise of Andrew and Renee. We will also be posting on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod), [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/), perhaps an instagram, and [Reddit](https://www.reddit.com/user/redrabbitspod), to keep everyone up to date with the story and any extras! We will be posting 'evidence', paintings, photographs, etc, that will fall in line with this fic - so, if you want to submerge yourself in this world as much as we are, please go follow us to stay up to date!!! 
> 
> Additionally, we also have a [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) up and running, with an [ask](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/ask) ready! So, you can take full advantage of that - [ask](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/ask) Andrew, Renee, Dan, Seth, even Wymack or Abby questions about the podcast, the case, their lives, etc! We're trying to keep this as in character and immersive as possible, so we'd love it if you played along!
> 
> Also! in the comments, our ask box, twitter, reddit, you can post any theories you think may play into finding out who Mary and Nathaniel is, etc. We may add them into the fic to get the audience involved in the story as well! You can even play as a witness. Maybe Andrew will interview you? Who knows :D
> 
> We already have a few things posted. You can find them linked throughout the fic, as well as in the end notes. For now, here is the [opening theme](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/184192353735/sneak-peak-into-the-intro-we-apologize-for-the) we've made, to further make this fic feel real!
> 
> *Parkland - has no relation to any real events that happened to Parkland. Nor do any of the other clips in the intro!
> 
> Anyway, we know this is a bit late and this is really long, so from now on, us as writers are signing out - Andrew and Renee, signing on. Please enjoy, Red Rabbits.

_[ Piano. Sirens wailing ]_

_//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//_

_//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//_

_[ Run Little Rabbit Run, Run ]_

_//He hid behind... He thought he could hide behind a door. It was a nice door - expensive door.//_

_//The shocking part about a lot of these cases is how various circumstances and situations can result in somebody just completely vanishing. In a second they’re gone...with no trace of what happened to them.//_

_[ Orchestral music ]_

_//If you don’t want it found, you can take it somewhere. You could bury it. Put it in the trunk of a car and have it crushed.//_

_//At this point, Baltimore Police are fearing the worst.//_

_//We’re not talking about Runaways, we’re talking about situations where we know the people are in significant risk of harm.//_

_//Detectives are now working with authorities in Parkland* and no where there have they seen this pair.//_

_You’re listening to Red Rabbits. I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_A little background in case some of you have been living under a rock for the past two decades:_

_On the night of June 12, 2004 Seattle PD arrested Nathan Wesninski, a resident of Baltimore, Maryland, with possession of illegal firearms. The FBI were quickly called when the ballistics of one of the guns matched a cold case investigators had given up on. That was the break the FBI had been waiting for during their long-term investigation on the mafia boss dubbed ‘The Butcher of Baltimore’. A warrant was issued to search the Wesninski’s quiet suburban home and a suspiciously well-timed anonymous call tipped the FBI to a hidden basement on the property. What the FBI found has been described as a “Murderer’s Playroom”._

_-_

“I mean, do you really blame the women? They’ve _obviously_ got something fucked up in the brain, but they’re just so attention starved that they want to fuck Ted Bundy in jail, you know?”

_Unfortunately._

Neil didn’t want to be able to relate to the shit that came spewing out of _Ashleigh’s_ mouth, but.

_But._

He tried to ignore her, tried every trick in the book to block her out: earplugs, headphones, doing his actual _work_ , glaring. One time he told her to shut up, but she looked so hurt that he took it back. Ever since then, he let her blab for as long as she’d like about whatever she liked. He thought maybe not responding would deter her but alas.

 _Alas_.

“I just find that kind of mindset so intriguing, both the men and women. I think I’d know if I were being manipulated like that because _fuck_. How could you not, you know?”

 _You know? You know? You know?_ She was worse than an actual broken record sputtering at the back of the shop. In fact, Neil should really keep a tally: How many times could Ashleigh ask him if he rhetorically _knew_ whatever the fuck she was on about?

“But I’m not pining after Charles Mason.”

_Says the girl wearing an H.H. Holmes tee._

This was the sixth time he rearranged the animal bookmarks on the counter and he could feel a headache brewing behind his eyes. The old analogue clock on the wall behind Ashleigh’s head was eighteen minutes fast and they still had an hour until closing. He debated whether he could reorganize the sports section again, but he had just done it two hours ago. With all her true crime sleuthing, she was bound to catch onto the excuse. Then again, she was the girl that asked him:

_‘Jeffrey Dahmer was kinda hot. He looked like Ryan Seacrest, right?’_

He didn’t know who the fuck Ryan Seacrest was, but after she pulled up pictures on her phone of two similar looking white guys - yeah, he guessed.

The Book Nook was nestled in a quiet corner of Phoenix, Arizona. This was his fifth job in the past two years and his forty-fourth name in fifteen. Sounds like a lot, but when you’re a man with a price on your head, it was wise to keep a frequent rotation. That’s why this place was perfect for a guy like him. Despite the fact that Ashleigh was an absolute lunatic with a fetish for all things true crime.

_‘I’m a murderino , Neil. You know, SSDGM? No...? Stay sexy and don’t get murdered?’_

It was perfect. Quiet, hidden, few people in and few people out. The business was less than booming and he wouldn’t be surprised if Gary, the owner, couldn’t make the rent by the end of the month. He got paid, his face wasn’t on display to dozens of people a day, and when this business tanked he could disappear with little chance of leaving a footprint behind.

So far, so good.

-

_Over the next six years, the FBI had convicted Wesninski of over twenty murders and another fifty assisted murders spanning over the past nineteen years, and the State of Maryland held no reservations about their oft times controversial death penalty._

_The case held the American people captive for months. Despite the disgustingly popular series, Mob Wives, the general belief over a home-grown mob boss had been a thing of the past. Al Capone and the Roaring 20’s had been laid bare as the - quote-unquote - ‘Butcher’s’ empire was ripped apart._

_-_

As empty as always, today boasted a whopping nine customers - which, if Neil was frank, was a better turnout than usual. They couldn’t even blame the lack of business on location. Neil wasn’t very savvy in book retail, but considering the amount of times Ashleigh bitched and whined about the store tanking, he deduced it had something to do with the _other_ bookstore that opened somewhere uptown. It had a bar attached and apparently hosted themed nights where book lovers and alcoholics could get together and scream about whatever it was alcoholic book lovers screamed about.

All The Book Nook really had going for it was the fact that it had been there for over 30 years. The previous owner died and passed it down to Gary, his grandson. Apparently, it had been quite the hotspot in past decades, but Gary ran this place like he ran his life - he didn’t.

The bookcases were old, the register ancient, record player broken, and the bell at the front of the store stopped ringing ages ago. Honestly, Neil sometimes wondered how this place hadn’t been condemned. But again, it was safe, it was money, it was a place where he could disappear just as the store eventually would - without a trace.

Being one of the only two employees meant he worked long days. Most, he switched off with Ashleigh. Sometimes he’d close and others she would. When he was particularly unlucky, they got stuck doing it together.

Like tonight.

She stopped talking about whatever popular killer she was into about a half hour ago and retreated to her side of the store. By her side, he meant the true crime, murders/mysteries, and horror section, all stationed by the break room at the back of the shop. It was probably the most organized part of this place, if not for the sports section where he went to escape her ‘who done it’ rants.

-

_I want to preface before we move further. I will only refer to Nathan Wesninski by his name. Any time I use the Butcher, it is to emphasize the audacity that title entails._

_It has been used as propaganda, a piece to either strike fear or sensationalism to the masses. Do not be fooled. This playground name, this name popularized by the media, is only that - a name._

_Nathan Wesninski is only a man. Still in the system, still breathing, a hitman, a serial murderer with over 35 known victims. The Butcher gives him power, it gives him recognition, it gives him joy,_ **_validation_ ** _._

_Do not let it._

-

Nine o’clock finally ticked around and he had never been happier to go home to his small, empty apartment. Neil didn’t even bother calling for Ashleigh to let her know it was time. Instead, he counted cash, organized receipts, and went about his usual business.

Ashleigh appeared somewhere between Neil putting down the boxes of three-month-old ‘New’ Releases that he was to shelve in the morning and locking up. She had a new book in her hand, nose planted in it’s bindings. Neil fully intended on slipping out the door and letting her do the rest, but she was engrossed.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he twirled the keys around his finger and sighed, toeing Ashleigh’s bag by his foot.

“We’re done,” he spoke up.

She nodded and turned the page with a hum. Ashleigh was a short, waify girl. Her favorite colors seemed to be those you couldn’t decipher at night and she had a bobbed haircut that made her look like a flapper girl on one of Gary’s old records. Neil supposed she was fine to look at, but besides her proclivity for the macabre and some interesting fashion choices, she was just as ordinary as everyone else.  In fact, Neil didn’t _really_ hate her. She talked a lot, sure, and sometimes she didn’t know when to stop, but he’d had worse coworkers in the past. Ashleigh let him be most of the time. She didn’t pry into his life and was decently pleasant when she wasn’t off on a tangent.

It was dark outside. Ashleigh was barely paying attention to what her hands and feet were doing as she grabbed her keys and bag from the floor. Hardly sparing Neil a glance and only just missing the glass door, she walked out and flipped another page.

The streets around them were quiet with stores and businesses closed for the night. Neil didn’t know where she lived, but he did know that she wasn’t putting that book down any time soon - especially since she had the flashlight on her keyring on, propped in her mouth, and hovering before the pages.

Neil pulled the glass door behind him and locked it with one of the two keys on his ring. Frowning, he stared at his hazy reflection in the dirty front window, listening to Ashleigh’s platformed footsteps _tap tap tap_ in the opposite direction of his apartment. When he looked up, she was only but a receding spot in the distance, a glowing orb in the night, haloed in the dark and realized beneath the sparse streetlights. As unassuming and oblivious as ever, Neil’s flight instincts were pounding on the inside of his mind - not for his sake, but for hers. She looked like easy prey, a sign practically hovering over her head screaming _TAKE ME!_

Neil _did not_ care about her. She was just his coworker and really, he owed her nothing. However, he would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

_~~Afterall, Who else would bring coffee in the morning?~~ _

No. The real issue was in how comfortable he was getting; both here in Arizona and in general. He should go home. It wasn’t his fault she was stupid, it wasn’t his fault if she got snatched in the night without a trace, her body left god knows where and... _and_.

-

 _Speaking of sensationalism and validation, this year’s hit, and in my opinion, fetishizers wet dream, **The Butcher**_ _, produced by Edgar Allan Productions, already has several Oscar nominations including_ **_Best Documentary Feature_ ** _. It also topped the box office for 7 consecutive weekends._

_-_

Neil caught up with her easily. She didn't even look over her shoulder, no sign or inclination that she’d known he’d approached from behind. In fact, her eyes were still glued to the pages of her book, small flashlight held between her teeth. Morality won out and he rolled his eyes both at himself and her oblivion. Neil was half tempted to grab her, do something to prove a point. Instead, he gripped the strap of his backpack and sidled next her.  

Ashleigh looked up at him with her doey brown eyes. Not an ounce of fear crossed her face, instead halfway vacant confusion as she glanced over her shoulder and back at him. Removing the flashlight she asked, “Did I forget something?”

His mother must have been tossing in her sandy grave.

“No, it’s just...you’re doing a real shitty job at the whole DGM thing,” Neil said, eyes darting around to darkened corners and trees casting shapes of strangers. It was a habit ingrained in him from an early age. If only the rest of his survival instincts caught up.

Ashleigh’s own eyes were darting, but from between the pages of her book and Neil’s ruddy eyes. A smile pulled the sides of her lips as if Neil had just cracked a funny joke. “I’m fine. I’ve done this a million times before. I’ve got pepper spray.” She held up the flashlight and shook it. Hanging off a carabiner were keys and a pink bottle.

How could someone with a brain so big, be so fucking stupid?

Neil fought not to roll his eyes again as he nodded and glanced down at her ridiculous boots. “Cool. Pepper spray only buys you time. How the fuck would you run in those?” When he looked up, her eyes were amused and still wholly oblivious. The girl survived on true crime and horror flicks, how the fuck she lasted this long, Neil didn’t know. He looked forward in the direction they were walking and gripped his backpack tighter. “You should really start taking an uber or something.”

Ashleigh laughed softly, “Okay, Neil. Whatever you say.” When he glanced out of the corner of his eye, she was giving him a small smile as they passed beneath a streetlight. Yellow coated her features in a sick hue.

When he made no indication of turning around to go his own way, she hummed a sound to herself and said, “I’m perfectly safe. You don’t have to walk me home. I swear, I’m not as stupid as I look.” He begged to differ. “I mean - that is, unless... you want to walk me home.”

Neil raised a confused brow and changed the subject. She was so fucking annoying.

“What book did you get today?”

Ashleigh’s small smile turned wider and just as Neil thought, she started on a long tangent about the book. He let her talk while they walked and didn’t hear a single word she said until they got to her apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.” She reached out a hand with black painted nails and squeezed his arm. Neil flinched out of her grasp and started to back away.

“Um, sure. No problem. Just... take a fucking uber next time.”

Neil turned on his heel and left, cursing himself the entire way.

Connections, trails, relationships. He was an idiot for caring, an idiot for allowing himself to stay in Phoenix for so long and even dumber for getting comfortable. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach - one day, this was going to come back and bite him.

For now, he could rest a little easier knowing tomorrow there’d be a cup of coffee waiting for him.

 _Stupid_.

-

_New Clips Play:_

_//The Butcher is being credited a documentary game changer after its debut last night//_

_//The Butcher by Edgar Allan Productions already in talks for Oscar Nominations//_

_//Critics are calling The Butcher a documentary classic and comparing it to such favorites as Grey Gardens and Bowling for Columbine//_

_Just to put that in perspective: Remember that stretch of time where everyone was losing their *beep* over blue people_ ** _Avatar_ ** _? Then after three or so months in theaters, it came back for the entire month of August or some *beep*? In the documentary world,_ **_The Butcher_ ** _is not only on par with_ **_Avatar_ ** _, but it’s just as - quote, unquote - revolutionary. So much so, that streaming services such as Netflix and Hulu, as well as major television network HBO, are working on their own docuseries cataloguing Nathan Wesninski’s court case, his childhood, and other unnecessary bull*beep*._

-

Nine AM was ticking dangerously close as Neil made his way to the Book Nook. His shift was to start any minute, but he found himself relishing in the pleasant ache of his muscles and the occasional tap of the shopping bag hitting against his leg. The sun was rising high in the sky and the air had a gentle bite in the early spring. It had been colder a few hours before - refreshing to his foggy brain when he’d dragged himself from failed sleep and forced his legs to push away the thoughts that kept him awake all night.

His run didn't work, nor did it help. His mind was still abuzz with all the things he had done and had _been_ doing wrong. Tossing and turning in his cheap sheets, intrusive thoughts dug into his head and made themselves a humble fucking home. Neil was in trouble and it was all his own doing.

The fact of the matter was, Neil was making _mistakes_ . Last night was a huge _mistake_. He should’ve turned around and ignored whatever shred of moral fiber he had left. So what if Ashleigh didn’t show up the next morning? That was one less person to remember who he was, what he looked like, and the fact that he liked straight black, medium roast coffee.

Neil wasn’t stupid. Oblivious at times yes, but he saw the way she looked at him. Like he was a _friend_ , like he _cared_ about her wellbeing. A bond had been forming by proximity alone, and now he had willingly stepped up to the plate and made her believe in something that wasn’t there. It was dangerous. Neil was playing a dangerous game and he knew it.

Which was why hanging from his fingertips was the shopping bag containing the coffee maker from his apartment. One of the few appliances he owned, he decided that he was going to ignore the fuck out of Ashleigh and her antics. No sense buying him coffee if they had a coffee maker at work. And if she wasn’t buying him coffee, then she really had no reason to talk to him and he had no reason to thank her or whatever else he did.

His lease was up next month. All he had to do was last three more weeks and some change before he could leave Neil Josten behind and finally move on. He’d outstayed his welcome and Phoenix was getting too close for comfort.

Speaking of: Ashleigh’s eyes were immediately on him as he pushed open the glass door bell-lessly.

“Hey! Whatchya got there?”

Her voice grated at Neil’s ears. He tried not to grimace as she peered over the counter at the bag in his hand and pushed forward his coffee cup on the counter.

“Coffee maker.” He acknowledged the cup on the counter because he _felt bad if he didn’t_ and said a quick ‘thanks’ as he nodded towards it.

Ashleigh hummed and leaned her back against the bookshelves behind the register, arms crossed over her chest. “Why bring a coffee maker when there's a cafe across the street?”

Neil hadn’t thought of an answer to that. There _was_ in fact a cafe across the street. It was one of those _hip_ and _trendy_ places where everything was vastly overpriced and the entire place was decorated like a niche paradise. However, he was good at lying and thinking on his feet, so he said, “I feel bad you’re spending so much money.” He set the bag on the counter and swung his backpack in its spot beneath the register.

“Nah don’t. The guy in there likes me. I get ‘em for free.” She grinned and took a sip from her own cup.

Neil glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and mumbled _‘right’_ because what else was he supposed to say? Checking to make sure his backpack was  safely hidden from view with considerably less anxiety than what he used to feel, Neil grabbed his coffee and motioned vaguely over towards the ‘New’ Releases waiting to be shelved.

Perhaps that was stupid too.

-

_My point is, there’s blood in the water and the sharks are hungry. People fall in love with the glorification of an objectively attractive, charismatic killer. Ted Bundy, Andrew Cunanan, Charles Manson, Richard Ramirez, Charles Schmid, must I go on?_

_No. Because there’s an elephant in the room that not only the critically acclaimed documentary failed to mention - but also the majority of this audience elected to ignore._

_-_

The day started quiet and Neil thought maybe he had gotten lucky. Coffee long gone and caffeine caches sustained, Neil finished organizing the ‘New’ Releases when a group of people walked in.

Since Neil was working the floor for the first half of his shift, it was _technically_ his job to greet the customers and make sure they found whatever it was they were looking for. But because this was the Book Nook and the place was clearly handled with minimal care, Neil found himself picking up the collapsed boxes to bring them to the back room. They seemed to know where they were going anyway because Ashleigh hailed them down with an, “Ohmygod hey!”

He assumed they were friends because all five of them made a beeline for the register, already talking animatedly about something or other. Their voices faded into a blur of sound as Neil disappeared behind the dusty stacks.

Emerging from the back room moments later, he had full intentions of ignoring Ashleigh and her group in favor of triple checking the sports magazines he’d organized 3 times the day before. His luck seemed to still be running as he went unnoticed and no other customers entered for at least another hour.

Lounging between the magazine cases in an old bean bag chair with a tear threatening to burst beads with one wrong move, Neil flipped through an exy magazine - just waiting for the excited voices of twenty-something year olds to finally go away. Which, as _luck_ would have it, they finally did. _Un_ luckily however, Ashleigh found him with quick steps and that ridiculous smile on her face that only showed her top row of teeth. Her eyes were sparkling in that way they did when she had learned something new or found something to sate her morbid interests. Internally, Neil groaned. Externally, Neil groaned.

“Did you hear?!” she asked, way too excited for anything really.

Neil turned a page in his magazine and dragged his eyes up to meet hers. His silence was answer enough.

Ashleigh rolled her eyes in exasperation and said, “The new podcast finally dropped!” She held up her phone. The screen looked like a music app with a song already pulled up. There was a black box in the form of album artwork with some... red blob that he couldn’t decipher from down there, with blue dots.  

“The fuck is a podcast?”

“ _Neil!_ Remember? I told you about this last week. That guy finally dropped the podcast about -”

When Neil nodded slowly and looked back down at his magazine, clearly confused - she just groaned and said, “Whatever. Okay, I’m going to play it. Do you mind? Or will it disturb your....Exy? Really?”

Neil shrugged, “You’re fine.”

Ashleigh leaned her weight onto one foot and tapped her phone against her thigh. “Do you play? Exy that is?”

Neil’s eyes flicked up at her again. She had that weird look on her face that she’d had last night and Neil had the knee jerk reaction to avoid answering entirely. “Your podcast, remember?”

She gasped, “Ohmygod you’re right! You should listen too! I’ll play it loud.”

Great. That, he considered to be his cue. Standing from the chair, he put away the magazine and followed Ashleigh to the register. There was an old iHome that she’d brought from her place docked on the counter. Grabbing his backpack from beneath the counter, he swung it over his shoulder, glanced at the clock, and said, “I’m taking my break.”

She just whined and said, “Suit yourself!” just as an eerie piano filled the store with the sound of sirens that he could still hear as he made it to the back room.

Just as he closed the door, the voice of a woman rose from the music:

_//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//_

_-_

_The real reason Nathan Wesninski was arrested in Seattle Washington on the night of June 12, 2004, was due to eyewitness accounts of a fire fight against what was described as a middle-aged woman and boy._

_-_

Neil could abuse his lunch breaks. No one was there to check him and there weren’t customers to tend to. But the more he sat in silence brewing over his mistakes and what his life has turned out to be, the more he felt like he was suffocating.

The back room wasn’t big. Stacks of boxes rested on either side of a beat up couch that was long past its prime. There was a pile of used cardboard boxes in the corner, an inventory list tacked to the wall, as well as a schedule for the only two employees employed. Neil stared at that list now, hearing the faint hum of the _podcast_ through the door.

Neil had been working there for little more than five months. His previous job was on the other side of the city, working in a warehouse for a glass company. It was a good job, but too risky. There was some sort of business happening from the back door, something quiet and most certainly illegal - and things were getting too close for comfort. Impending doom had felt like it was hanging over his head, so he relocated. That feeling was finally creeping back, just as he knew it eventually would.

He’d broken nearly every rule his mother had set in one way or another.

_Don’t stay in one place for more than absolutely necessary._

He should have left the moment the warehouse went south. Lease be damned, it was the smart thing to do.

_Things start turning, you run._

Instead, he was sitting in the back room of a beaten up bookstore with a self-proclaimed _Murderino_ as his coworker.

“One more month...” he whispered to himself, crumbling up the seran wrap between his hands and tossing it in the bin.

Because that was what he thought was best. Neil Josten couldn’t just disappear into the ether. All the names he and his mother had used that poofed into nothing - with no excuse to cover their tracks - all came back to bite them.

Bite _her_.

Because the last time they tried to evaporate as fast as they had been realized, _he_ found them. And _she_ didn’t make it out alive.

Neil zipped his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He’d let himself steep in solitude for long enough and used his shoulder to push the door open and get back to work.

The noise from the podcast had been reduced to mumbles from inside the back room. Now, it was so loud he felt as though the monotone voice could shake the stacks. It was deep and it was accusatory. There was quiet music drifting through his syllables in the background, but Neil did his best to block it out entirely.

_-_

_The trial never clarified who these two individuals actually were, but investigators suspected - and suspect - they could be Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski, the wife and son of your_ **_Butcher_ ** _._

-

“ _What_?”

Ashleigh was lost in her own world and part of Neil wished he were lost somewhere too. Instead, he stood at the foot of the register, eyes glued onto the docked phone as if he could see whatever bastard was speaking his name from the speakers.

“Hm?” She turned in a flurry, a tack sticking out of her mouth from where she had been pinning up a poster on the empty wall beside a bookcase.

“What did he just say-” Neil pointed at the dock, then looked to Ashleigh’s confused face. Unfortunately, catching his attention from behind her head was a pair of cold eyes he had seen hundreds of times around the city.

They were icy. Sneering. Blue. And his own.

Neil had tried his best to ignore any and all _Butcher_ propaganda in the past few months. His father's face plastered across billboards, taxis, buses, and movie theaters. He avoided television entirely when picking up dinner in diners and restaurants in case a trailer played and fear took hold. He put up with Ashleigh’s fangirling about how... _Intriguing_ the documentary was, despite the fact that it seemed to _play in favor_ of the man of the hour. Magazines ordered with any mention of the documentary and all parties involved ended up in the dumpster out back - money be damned - and questions as to where they had gone were quickly avoided with dozens of, _I don't know’s_.

But _he_ always found a way back into Neil’s life. Whether it be years ago in the form of flying bullets, slicing knives, and burning cars; or now with the media frenzy, court cases, and speculation. Nathan Wesninski just wouldn’t fucking die...

He was immortalized right here in front of him, tacked to a dirty wall in a dirty store with a dirty fucking -

“Neil...?”

It was nearly silent but for the pound of rushing blood in his ears. That deep voice had stopped droning and the eerie music left a hollow space in this cursed place. Ashleigh had paused the podcast, her eyes watching him with a level of concern that would have had him running if he were not already ready.

“Rewind it.” His throat felt like his voice was being dragged over rough gravel. His head felt light and it was becoming hard to swallow. His lunch was turning to lead in his stomach, weighing him down to this spot, this floor, and he felt too heavy to move.

When Ashleigh stepped around the counter slowly, her hand reaching out to his arm, he flinched away from her grasp. Tearing his eyes from his father’s smiling face, the bold letters of **_The Butcher_ ** below and all the praise acting as a red backdrop to his father's morbidity, he looked to Ashleigh sharply.

“What are you listening to?” he asked, voice grating rougher and either he couldn’t hear himself over the pounding in his ears or he spoke just above a whisper.

Ashleigh looked at him weird, her chin pulling back as she looked to the phone in her hand, thumb hovering over the pause and back to him.

“Red Rabbits...remember? Neil are you okay? You’re not looking so good. What did you have for lunch...?”

He didn't feel good either. The lead in his stomach was growing heavier while his head only felt lighter. He fought not to wooz on the spot and swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

“Yeah...must be something I ate. Could you just rewind that back? I missed the last part.”

_Breathe in._

Ashleigh gave him a cursory look, her eyes absorbing every detail of him that made Neil feel as though he was being stripped raw.

_Run now._

He couldn’t. Not as she regarded her phone and did as he asked.

His eyes were closing, darkness slowly sliding over his vision as he listened to the _voice_ come back. Not as loud as before, but loud enough to set his teeth on edge and rattle his bones.

_//- trial never clarified who these two individuals actually were, but investigators suspected - and still suspect - they could be Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski...//_

**_Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski_ **

**_Mary -_ **

**_And Nathaniel -_ **

_-_

_They’ve been missing for the past 15 years._

-

Nothing mattered but the slap of his shoes against the pavement.

_Slap, slap, slap._

_Faster, faster, faster._

His feet listened to whatever voice could be heard over the blood in his ears.

Perhaps it was his own. Perhaps it was his mothers. All he knew was that it was telling him to push harder, push faster, push further.

_Get away, away, away._

But he wasn’t fast enough, at least Neil didn’t think. Life slowed and sped, raced and dragged by. People were a blur, buildings obscured like a window wiper swiped over Phoenix.

Ashleigh had called after him. Her eyes wide as she followed to the end of the block, her voice worried with concern. “Neil!” She had called, “I’m sorry! What’s happened? Are you-”

He didn't bother looking to see if she was still there. Ashleigh was responsible, she wouldn’t have left the shop unattended. He couldn’t hear anyone chasing him, but then again, he couldn’t really hear anything at all.

-

 _No missing persons report was ever submitted, but FBI investigators assigned to Nathan noted the sudden disappearance of wife, Mary and son, Nathaniel. Let me repeat: FBI investigators assigned to Nathan_ **_noted_ ** _the sudden disappearance of_ **_Mary_ ** _and_ **_Nathaniel_ ** _. That_ **_note_ ** _was left unanswered, unsearched. From what I understand, they accepted this disappearance as if it were expected._

_-_

He ran so hard he thought his heart would give out. Part of him wished it would. The past few months had been so unreasonably _hard_. His past was being shoved in his face, exploited and played like it was nothing but a grab for money. Like the shit his father had done was something to be celebrated and revered.

Neil didn’t even realize he’d been running in circles. When he stopped, his stomach felt like it was lodged in his throat, his hands wrung his backpack straps and he found himself muttering incoherent nothings. Whomever might be watching would probably think he was insane - Ashleigh likely did too. He didn’t care. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.

How did he let this happen? How did he let himself get so fucking settled and comfortable - especially now? With his father's face plastered on every fucking billboard, played on every goddamned commercial, talked about by anyone with lips to spit - how had he not fled somewhere else? **_The Butcher_ ** was a worldwide sensation, according to the Entertainment Weekly magazines he’d chucked last week, but there had to be one place Nathan Wesninski hadn’t touched. Right?

“No,” he heard himself whisper and shook his head quickly as if to expel any hope he tried to muster.

_Don't you dare give up._

Did _her_ voice even matter anymore? It wasn’t like he’d been listening. He ignored his mother so thoroughly, that he’d gotten used to his environment - his apartment with its too small windows and loud radiator, the market where he shopped, Mark, his grumpy landlord who thought his name was Stephan. Even stupid fucking Ashleigh. With her stupid fucking black nails and serial killer obsession for what? For the coffee she brought him every day? For the way Gary let her do the ordering, but she let him get the sports magazines he wanted?

Neil stopped and took a deep breath before he puked.

He did anyway.

_-_

_So that leaves me here. With a million questions and even more rumors on the whereabouts of this mother and son._

_Some say they’ve been dead for over 20 years. Others claim they ran, but died that night. Still more suspect that Mrs. Wesninski had ties to another crime family - which may bear fruit - or that she was the anon who tipped the authorities to the hidden basement._

_All but death lead to the real possibility that Mary and Nathaniel very well may have been in witness protection this entire time._

_If you want my opinion, I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think you will either._

_-_

Jittery and clammy, hot and cold, dizzy and every fucking sensation at once.

Neil wiped his mouth with a shaky hand and leaned backpack first against the brick wall in...whatever alleyway he was. Sliding down slowly, he pulled his knees to his chest, hung his head between his knees, and took a deep breath.

_Think. You know how to do this. You’ve been here too long. Think._

First things first:

_Get the fuck out of here. Now. There’s no time to go back to the apartment._

Everything important was strapped to his back and kept on him at all times for this exact reason. ID, passport, cash, binder. Normally, he had at least one extra set of clothes, a few protein bars, and bottles of water.

But again.

He had grown comfortable here. He’d let himself slack and now he was paying the price.

Neil’s breaths were only just starting to slow as he saw a plan form in his mind. Shutting his eyes tightly, he ground his teeth together and inhaled deeply three times.

_Get the fuck out. Now._

He could hotwire a car, drive a few states over...

_What if you’re stopped? What if a cop pulls you over in a stolen car and you end up in some county jail? Too risky. Be smart Nathaniel._

Plane.

_Arizona’s a border state. You look like a fucking mad man right now Nathaniel. You’re shaking, you’re pale. They’ll grab you from security the moment you try to go through. It’s not worth the risk._

_Bus._

Taking another deep breath, he pulled out his phone and checked the local greyhound schedule.

_Panic is the mother of failure._

He could do this. This would be fine. No problem. He’d done this a million times before.

He swallowed whatever was left in his stomach back down.

There was a bus leaving in an hour to St. Louis. Perfect. But was St. Louis where he wanted to stop?

No, this person, whoever he was, was creating his podcast around him and his mother specifically. **_The Butcher_ ** was a botchery of actual events and Neil felt like that was the _point_. While that propaganda surrounded him, and though every time he saw or heard anything having to do with the documentary made his feet want to take flight - he’d learned to live with it.

But this? This was different. This was someone looking for him. He was perfectly happy keeping Nathaniel ‘dead’ and then this fucker comes around and decides to dig him out? Put him in the public eye? Forget about fear, Neil was fucking pissed. His nails dug into his palms and he lifted his head back against the wall.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

He had half a mind to contact whoever that monotoned ass was and let him know how he could end up dead in the trunk of a car with the shit he was messing with.

_Don’t engage. Leave._

No. St. Louis wasn’t it. Neil was going to have to leave the country. If this person was serious and this podcast was ongoing, with a search into what actually happened to him and his mother, he couldn’t be here. He had to be where no one could find him.

So. He’d take the bus to St. Louis. From there, the train to Chicago (one he’d rode before, another major ‘no no’ in his mother's handbook), a plane to New York with a short layover, before he caught another plane the fuck out of the States.

_You have a contact in New York. Get a new ID, passport, and documentation. Chris is a good name._

Neil stood, hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders, let his stomach decide to throw up one more time for good measure, then made his way to the bus station.

-

_It doesn't take long when searching this case on any web forum to find sightings of Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski - some as recent as 2 years. Many describe a mother and son with different combinations of hair and eye color, but who still bear a striking resemblance to the Wesninski’s._

_Speaking of which, a family photograph, likely dating sometime around 2000, can be seen on our website._

-

Neil was good at pretending, so he pretended he belonged at the Phoenix Greyhound station.

He didn’t.

He cursed himself again for not having a spare set of clothes and cursed even more for Arizona’s stupid climate. He was sweating through his shirt with surprising speed and only had a sweater to put over it. Not helpful.

Neil quickly bought his ticket while avoiding any wandering eyes and sat as far away from the general population as he could. He crossed his arms over his stomach and bounced his knee quickly. The bottom edge of his jean shorts were threading and he wrapped a longer piece around his pointer finger. His backpack, his lifeline, was wedged tightly between his feet.

A man in a black suit walked by with a cursory glance at him. The hair on the back of his neck didn’t raise, but maybe it was because it was too heavily slicked down with sweat. Then again, the man could have looked at him because Neil was sweating - he didn’t know. Neil narrowed at his eyes and let his mind wander with possibilities.

_The fuck is a guy in a suit doing at a bus station in the middle of the day?_

_Don’t suited men work?_

_Why aren’t you at work, sir?_

Neil grabbed his backpack and hid in the bathroom until boarding was called.

He was the last one on. Standing at the back of the line, he watched every single person that boarded, letting his eyes weigh and gauge the legitimacy of their ticket. Black Suit never got on.

Picking a seat at the very back, Neil pulled his backpack into his lap and clutched it against his chest. The airconditioning was loud, but nice, blowing cool air against his heated skin and calming the nerves ticking at his edges.

_Black Suit could’ve just been passing by. Everything is fine._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

St. Louis, Chicago, New York, meet with contact, Europe.

He’d be in Chicago in little more than a day, out of the country in less than 36 hours. No one would remember he was here and hopefully, he’d forget, too.

_-_

_This pair, on several accounts, have been reported as acting skittish, as if they suspected they were being watched. Even more claim what is assumed to be the mother, holding onto a boy of varying ages tightly with one hand, while the other grips onto some sort of bag. This isn’t me confirming said eyewitnesses, but rather what several Reddit and Websleuth users repeatedly allege._

_-_

The bus to St. Louis was over 24 hours long, with a million stops in between. He spent most of that time worrying about every person getting on and off the bus, overanalyzing the looks sent his way, and agonizing over how tight he could clutch his backpack without looking suspicious. Several times, Neil seriously considered getting off and hitching it with a truck driver. He’d done it a million times before, it wasn’t a big deal. But the likelihood of someone willing to take him and the probability of getting enough drivers to fall for his bag of tricks wasn’t worth it.

With whatever time was left, he turned his back to the public and pulled out his binder. Inside were his remaining trusts from what his mother had left him, pages of contacts long since dried up, notes of old ID’s he’d burned once they were finished, and whatever else it took for him to survive all these years. This binder and it’s contents were his lifeline. He searched through the names of whatever contacts his mother had that were left and jotted a few things down in the margins.

By the time they made it to St. Louis, Neil had narrowed down who to call once he had privacy, purchased the train ticket to Chicago, and checked flights out of the country, too aware of his dwindling battery life.

That was another thing he’d forgotten to pack - a charger. He made that a number one priority at the train station in addition to granola bars, water, and coffee.

-

_// News Clip Plays:_

_Interviewer: So you claim to have spotted Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski?_

_Subject: I don’t claim. It was definitely them. They were at a laundromat in Toronto in January of 2001. It was 24 hour and I was there around midnight. They were sitting in a corner huddled together and Mary was whispering something to Nathaniel - Really harsh like, you know? Poor kid looked so defeated._

_Interviewer: How could you be so sure it was them?_

_Subject: [ Sigh ] Are you kidding? I’m obsessed with the Wesninski’s. I followed that case so closely, just like everyone else. Nathan was a psycho, but he was hot to my teenage mind, you know?_

_Subject: [ Whisper ]  Please don’t put that in._

_Subject: Anyway. They were trying to hide behind bad dye jobs, but I have no doubt. It was them. //_

-

The train was nice and luckily, he had a car nearly to himself. He charged his phone as he finalized his decision to fly from Chicago to New York, and then after some deliberation, to Stuttgart instead of Berlin. After getting the email confirmation from his flight (and unfortunately, ‘his’ bank) - he went about going through the list of remaining contacts in the New York area.

The only one that answered was an old man named Frankie, who Neil remembered had three gold teeth and an uncomfortable looking beard. He answered on the fourth ring, right when Neil was ready to give in.

“Who’s this?”

The voice was exactly as Neil had remembered, if anything, a good deal rougher from years of smoking.

“Frankie. This is Alexander, Jane Benits son. Do you remember me?”

There was a long pause at the end of the line, followed by muttered, “Jane, Jane Jane...” Another stretch of silence followed, before Frankie wheezed and whispered, “I’ll be goddamned...you still kickin’ it?”

Neil always liked Frankie. ‘Alexander’ was 13 when they visited him on an off trip to Manhattan. From the brief period they sat in his office, he showed ‘Alexander’ how to ignite a lighter and light a cigarette. When his mother walked into the room and saw ‘Alexander’ blowing smoke out of his mouth, she boxed his ears.

He flinched with the memory and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit! How you doin’ after everything? Your pops really kickin' up a storm from the box.” Neil assumed he meant the documentary. “You still here?”

“Not for long.” He didn’t want to be on the phone for too long. “Listen, Frankie-”

“God, couldn’t believe that shit when I heard it. Real balls he’s got. You too. Where you 'bouts now?”

“Hopefully out of here. I need your help and I need it fast. Can you do that for me?”

Frankie sighed on the other end. There was a clicking sound and lips blown together. “Fuck, I dunno kid...been out of that business for a while. On the straight and narrow as they say.”

Neil highly doubted that. Frankie had been notorious for his clean work in the underground. It was a lucrative business despite the risk, and besides his raggy appearance, Neil remembered his crisply tailored blue suit.

“I know it’s a lot to ask. But I need this Frankie. You said it yourself. He’s kicking up a storm and I _need_ to get out.”

“Well-”

-

_// News Clip Plays:_

_Interviewer: Can you tell us what you saw and why you believe it was the Wesninski’s?_

_Subject: Okay, so it was this lady and this kid. And she was like, yankin’ him by the wrist. He was just followin’ with his head down - but it draws the eye, seein’ a lady yankin’ a kid like that._

_[ Pause ]_

_Subject: Anyway, you could tell they were tryin’ to be incognito, but I watched ‘em the whole time._

_Interviewer: Where was this?_

_Subject: Gas station._

_Interviewer: In what state? City? Town?_

_Subject: [ Redacted ] if I know. I drive trucks. I go alotta places - but, as I was sayin’. The lady kept callin’ him Chris, but I got a really good look at the kids face when I dropped somethin’. He looked up at me and it was definitely that kid from the picture. You know the one? With the whole family and everyone but the Butcher looks ready to jump off a bridge? //_

_-_

Neil got off the phone with a promise of documentation waiting for him when he got to JFK airport. Frankie had been hesitant at first and originally requested $200k for everything with a three day delay.

‘ _I can’t wait that long. I need this ASAP. By tomorrow night - the next morning, latest.’_

‘ _It’s gonna cost you, kid.’_

No fucking kidding. After a back and forth, Neil wired him $300k with a swear he wouldn’t let _‘the kid of that cast iron bitch’_ down. That was most of the remaining cash he had left, if he was being honest. But, so long as everything went well, he knew places in Europe his mother had kept stashes. He could replenish when he got there.  

There was a three hour layover according to his flight itinerary before the plane would leave for Germany. So, once he got off from Chicago, he’d have to run out of the airport, board the LIRR at Jamaica to Penn Station, and catch whatever subway line would get him to the Upper East Side fastest. Everything would be okay. He’d pick up his shit, then get the fuck out of the states.

_You’re fine._

Neil felt like he could finally breathe. He had a solid plan set in motion and everything would be just that. _Fine_. Settling into his seat, he looked around at his surroundings and realized more people had boarded and were now sitting with him in the car than he’d realized. Swallowing hard, he pulled his backpack into his lap, locked the screen on his phone, and lifted his eyes arbitrarily. They locked with a guy sitting across the aisle. He was about his age, with tattoo sleeves on both arms, and gauge things in his ears that would have made Ashleigh swoon. The guy smiled at him and raised a brow.

_What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?_

Neil looked back at his phone and tried to ignore his neighbor. The screen was black and his hand slightly shook because really, what the fuck was he looking at?

_Black Suit and now this guy? Tattoo Sleeves? Someone is following you Nathaniel. They’re onto you._

That was stupid. Black suit didn’t show up again and Tattoo Sleeves clearly had a screw or two loose, right?

_He’s listening to something._

He was. There was a red wire gathered in his lap. What if he was listening to the podcast? What if he knew? What if he knows Ashleigh? Do all Tattoo Sleeves know each other?

_~~What if he’s the Monotoned Ass? What if he’s working for him and Black Suit? Oh god, what if Monotoned Ass was working for someone higher up and this is all some big plan to get me murdered.~~  _

_That’s fucking stupid Nathaniel._

Tattoo Sleeves cleared his throat and Neil glanced at him sideways.

“Hey. I’m Charlie,” he said, holding out a hand towards Neil.

Neil stared at the hand in confusion. ~~Did hit men usually introduce themselves? He’d only dealt with a few, but he didn’t remember any formal introductions.~~

“Charlie?”

“Yeah...Charlie Daniels. This is a long train ride.”

~~_Long enough to murder someone._ ~~

Neil grunted non-committedly.

“You can come sit with me, if you want,” Charlie offered. Neil felt like he was trying very hard to speak carefully and he couldn’t figure out why. “I even have a blanket we could use...together. To...cover us.”

 _Right._ Neil unplugged his charger, stood, shouldered his backpack, and moved to find another car instead. There were about 4 hours left and he wasn’t spending it with potential hitman: Tattoo Sleeves.

“You could’ve just said no!” Charlie called from the back. “You have a great ass, though!”

Neil bit down onto his tongue so the venom didn’t start spitting. Responding was the exact kind of attention he didn’t need to attract.

_Blend in. Don’t. You’re nothing worth remembering._

He found a suitable seat three cars down. No one around to bother him and everyone looked pleasantly distracted. Neil slumped against the window, put his ear buds in, and drowned out everything until his next destination.

_-_

_This is what one might call chasing a white rabbit. And if you’re unaware of that term or confuse it with a once popular slang for chasing a high, a white rabbit is information or a lead in a criminal investigation that leads you down a rabbit hole to nowhere._

_Nathan Wesninski is serving several life sentences and has been in prison for past 17 years. Additionally, if authorities have notified us correctly, whatever contacts or associates Nathan had been working with have been successfully snuffed out as well._

_Assuming these reports are to be believed, then why haven't Mary or Nathaniel resurfaced in the past two years? What could these two rabbits still be running from? Do they have skeletons of their own to hide? Do they believe there are still people out to get them? Are they in witness protection? Or have they really just been dead all this time?_

_-_

No one spared him a second glance. Moving through O’Hare International Airport was a breeze and Neil put that down to the nerves he’d clamped down after his second call with Frankie. Apparently, his $300-fucking-k papers were going along well. His new name, Chris Prescott, was in the process of becoming realized and should be completed by the time he got off this plane.

It was only a two hour flight, but he felt like time was taking its own time dragging by.

Under the seat in front of him, tucked away was his backpack. Unfortunately, with how late he had bought this ticket, he was squeezed into a middle seat - both passengers looking as happy as he felt. Curling in his shoulders, Neil - Or Chris, he supposed - was used to making himself as small as possible. In his lap was his phone, around him was the voice of the flight attendant going through protocol, and there was a nagging thing at the back of his head.

It wasn’t the fear that someone was watching him, not right now. He couldn’t see any Black Suits or Tattoo Sleeves around, nor did he feel the need to be on high alert.

_Like you should be, Nathaniel._

Rather, the nagging came from his phone in his lap and the tangled headphones wrapped around it. He stared at the blank screen and refused the urge to do what his mother would likely advise against.

 _Or encourage. Someone is after us Nathaniel. You need to know what we’re up against. What does_ **_he_ ** _know?_

It would be the smart thing to do - might raise his blood pressure and send him into cardiac arrest, but he should listen.

After all,

 **_What does he know_ ** _?_

The plane was taking off. It was too late to listen now. Maybe on the way to Stuttgart.

Maybe.

_-_

_That’s what I plan to find out. We have an objective and I’ve been following this case for longer than I’d like to admit._

_Because of that, I pitched it to the team here at The Foxhole Network. I had planned on walking in and out with a commission check for my notes and ideas. Instead, I got roped into doing all the hard work. For that, blame them for my amazingly dulcet tone._

_I suppose there’s a person or two behind the scenes. Namely, Renee Walker, my co-producer, who is fortunate enough to do all the grunt work I don’t want to do myself._

_The Foxhole put it’s misguided trust in me to get this *beep* out - so, I’m going to do it the way I want to do it._

_-_

Neil/Chris got off at JFK with a purpose. Backpack strapped to his back, he raced down the long terminals, into the shuttle, and then past the metro-pass point.

Jamaica Station was just as he remembered it, but somehow cleaner (which was shocking for New York). He stopped at one of the kiosks lined before the train terminals and glanced at the large clock standing in the center of the station. Night was creeping upon the city and it started to blanket the station despite it’s bright floodlights. The station was busy enough to allow him to disappear - which was imperative being back on the east coast. Neil/Chris felt comfort in at least that, as he purchased a ticket on the LIRR to Penn Station and a metrocard with it.

Ticket in hand, Neil/Chris heard a train coming in.

-

 _With all that being said, for however long this takes, I_ **_will_ ** _find out what happened to Mary and Nathaniel Wesnisnki. I don’t expect it to be safe, I don’t expect it to be cheap, nor do I expect it to be_ **_easy_ ** _. Considering various reports put these two in the middle of gang fights, I’m going to be chasing two very bloody rabbits._

_Red Rabbits, you could say._

_It’s fitting to be back at Palmetto State. I’m a fox again. I’ll chase these rabbits down holes and I won't stop until my tongue tastes blood._

_-_

If Jamaica was clean, Penn was disgusting. Neil/Chris’s phone read 7:22PM and though he was making good time, he had somehow gotten caught in an unexpected home rush. Black Suits stood around, staring everywhere but him as he looked down at the map on his phone to find the quickest subway station to E 81st and 2nd. The fastest route was the Q. Unfortunately, as he followed the directions stationed on the upper walls of the station, there was a false, bright blue wall blocking entrance.

“What the _fuck_?!” Neil/Chris cursed under his breath and stepped back to look around. He hadn’t been in Manhattan for years, but the city still seemed to be inconveniently under construction.

Referring to his map, he quickly found another station as anxiety finally caught back up with him. His hands shook so violently that he nearly dropped his phone as he found another station, memorized the street/avenue.

If he didn’t make it to the contact within the next hour, he was going to be late for his flight. From what he remembered, it took at least an hour to get through JFK on a good day. And though it was conveniently night time and travel was usually sparse, he needed to plan for mishaps like this. Unfortunately, Neil/Chris didn’t have much of a choice.

Running through Penn Station, past the Black Suits, up one set of stairs, and through crowds of equally panicked and exhausted people, he took the last flight 3 stairs at a time before he burst into the cool, mucky, disgusting night air.

-

 _When this podcast airs, you’ll be able to visit our website, at redrabbitspod.tumblr.com, and social medias, all of which will be listed in the description of this episode. Additionally, if anyone listening has legitimate information or have sighted Mary and Nathaniel, let us know. You can post on our Reddit, at RedRabbitsPod; tweet us at RedRabbitsPod; make use of the ask box on our website, or email me directly at_ [ _aminyard.foxhole@gmail.com_ ](mailto:aminyard.foxhole@gmail.com) _. I’ll be combing through every legitimate lead to piece together a timeline of where and when Mary and Nathaniel have been spotted._

_Renee and I will be going cross country and perhaps international if some of these foreign leads prove worthy of following._

_-_

There was a station somewhere around here. New York City may have a grid, but it wasn’t nearly as organized as people will have you believe. Not to mention, it was too fucking crowded.

 _You can do this. Pick up the speed. Don’t run, people will look. Walk like you belong,_ **_Chris_ ** _._

He didn’t feel like he was disappearing here. His stomach was back in his throat and his blood was pounding ferociously in his ears as he weaved through clusters of people to the crosswalk right at the end of the block. His eyes were peeled for the two glowing orbs that signified the Q.

A throng of people cleared before him and there it was, like a beacon in the night, Neil/Chris ran - anonymity be damned. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked the time to see how much time he’d wasted rerouting himself, and found a missed call from Frankie's number.

“Shit-” He cursed to himself and skid before the subway stop to see that it said **Downtown** , not **Uptown**.

 _Breathe in, Breathe out. Calm down_ **_Chris_ ** _. Don't draw attention. You’re fine._

_Okay._

He held the phone up to his ear and looked around him. People passed and the phone rang.

“Alexander?” Frankie's voice was rough in his ear just as his eyes caught on the connecting subway.

“I’m on my way,” Neil/Chris replied gruffly and without thinking, ran across the street. No cars were coming anyway, the coast was clear.

“No, Alex-”

-

_So that’s it. A quick overview on the *beep* we’ll be diving in. Now you know what you’re getting yourselves into and can make a decision whether or not you want to keep up. I don’t want to see in our inbox how morbid this *beep* is. Trust me, we know._

_The next episode will be posted bi-weekly. That’s subject to change since Renee and I will be traveling. If we don’t find any leads, we may update, but I don’t want to post if we have nothing real to say. Again, keep an eye on our website and twitter for updates. I’ll be posting any evidence we find._

_Tomorrow, we’ll have a full transcript posted - keep an eye out for that, too._

_-_

Pain flared on Neil’s right side and he felt the ground against his cheek.

His ears were ringing, sirens were wailing, something was trickling into his eye. It was hot and it stung.

A haze fell over his vision and Neil tried to blink through it, tried to _see_. The only thing he could make out were bright lights, blue paint, and the shape of -

_Who the fuck drives a truck in New York?_

-

_Oh. Mary and Nathaniel? If you happen to be listening, drop me a line. I’m always open to information - direct from the source._

_I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_Keep searching._

_[ Outro ]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and I will be traveling the country following leads about the Wesninski’s. We appreciate any and all comments and tips regarding sightings or info! Make sure to follow our Twitter and tumblr to stay up to date on our whereabouts. Keep searching! - R


	2. Audio Notes # 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_don’t Be Bad_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A message from the writers: 
> 
> We have been so incredibly humbled by the outpouring of support from our readers! This little idea snowballed in a way we never expected, but are so thankful for. The community involvement and interaction has been at times healing and at almost every other time, hilarious. Your interactions, your oc's are directly affecting the movement and tone of the story and will continue to do so. So please keep contributing! You, the reader, is keeping the fandom alive.
> 
> P.S. Thank you for all the comments on ao3, once we figure out how to respond in character to them, we will. But your words and praise are being seen, loved, and gushed over by all four of us. Thank you so, so much!  
> -  
> A quick note for the chapter ahead.  
> 1: Much of this chapter is a summary of the past week. If you have been keeping up on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/), then you'll recognize some of this!  
> 2: We will be indicating where the recorder is turned on and off. If you are interacting with the world on [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod), or our other [social medias](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/directory), please keep in mind anything between [ record on / off ] is what you will be hearing during these 'notes'!  
> Everything else is just background for us as readers to see :)  
> 3: Keep up on our tumblr for pictures of evidence. We will be posting, and adding them to the chapter throughout the week!  
> -  
> Enjoy!

“I don’t understand what’s so hard about this. Isn’t this your job? Don’t you do this every fucking day?”

The sky was darkening outside. 7 o’clock flew by, as did 8, and 9 was steadily creeping upon them. Early spring brought out soft rain pattering on the short sills of the Tower and Andrew debated whether or not to ditch everyone and just go home.

The podcast was already supposed to be up. Andrew had done his part. He’d gathered his research, put it together, recorded his segments, and gave everything to the team on time. Now he watched Seth and Dan with heads bent together, whispering instead of making shit happen.

Water splashed onto the inner ledge and dampened the air unpleasantly. Dan’s finger _tap tap tapped_ in time with the _drip drip drip_ and Andrew was trying not to _flip flip flip_ the fuck out.

He took a drag of his cigarette instead and glared at the mixing booth while a fan whirred to the side of him, blowing his smoke out the open window at Dan’s insistence.

 _I hope you don’t smoke around King_.

Of course he didn’t. The look he had on his face then, was similar to the one he had now.

“Andrew, calm down,” Dan said, sticking her head out of the booth. “Seth is going as fast as he can. We’re just making some last minute edits and putting on finishing touches, okay?”

Andrew blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. The fan blew it away.

He really shouldn’t be smoking and the disappointed look Renee had given him when he lit up, proved it. He kicked the addiction years ago at Bee’s insistence and for King’s sake. She wasn’t wrong. Andrew would kill everyone in this office and then himself if anything happened to that cat*. But, for the past few weeks, he just couldn’t resist. There was an _itch_ that only nicotine and a cigarette between his fingers could fix.

He also shouldn’t be using the garishly orange area rug as an ashtray - which Renee also commented disapprovingly about as she sat on the opposite side of the table, phone face-up and vibrating with notifications.

Andrew glanced over the arm of his chair to the little pile and tried not to feel a personal victory. The feeling went away once he realized King could get to it. He made a mental note to clean it up before he left that night.

“Not _okay_ ,” Andrew looked up and used the toe of his boot to pull the laptop closer to him on the table. The team dashboard gleamed a ridiculously oversaturated blue that stung his eyes against the white questions steadily coming in. “I’m over here answering stupid fucking questions like - oh for fucks sake. This one just says, ‘You’re so mean.’”  

Seth let out a loud laugh. “You are mean, you little asshole.”

“Is this you? Are you sending me fucking,” he airquoted, “‘anons’ right now?” Andrew dropped his feet from the white chair in front of him to the floor and sat up straight. “No one let Seth on the website. He’s enough of a fucking menace already.”

“Just for that, I’m getting on as soon as this is done,” Seth said, not bothering to look back.

Dan huffed and pushed away from the desk. “Both of you stop. We’ve got this. Just a little longer.”

Andrew flicked more ash onto the carpet. His eyes looked to the latest question:

**What inspired the project?**

_What inspired this project..._

_-_

Five weeks ago, Andrew was an acclaimed journalist, known for digging deep and pulling a story apart by the seams. Five weeks ago, he was fired by the Boston Globe. Five weeks ago, he was pissed, but not worried. Five weeks ago, he knew he had a solid story, a _good_ story. One job down, due to what he assumed was Moriyama pressure on the Globe (if the well dressed Japanese man coming out of the CEO’s office meant anything), was nothing. He had other connections. After all, with his reader base and reputation, he didn’t think he would have any trouble finding a publication to take him and the Wesninski story on.

He was wrong.

If they didn’t outright turn him down, they didn’t bother replying.

He’d been blacklisted, discredited, shamed. Accusations based on what he assumed must have been unfounded lies, festered around his debatably good name.

Two weeks later, he aired his grievances through a much needed sparring session with Renee when she was in town.

Andrew didn’t really have _friends_ , but Renee was likely the closest he’d ever get. They met during their undergrad at Palmetto and despite her calm exterior, she was the one of the only people he could/would tolerate. They bonded over a shared _otherness_ that the rest of the Foxes could not even attempt to equate.

After years apart, Renee joining the Peace Corp and both getting Masters, they found time during their busy _real life_ bullshit to get together again - even if it was only to throw a couple of punches.

When they were both sweaty, panting, slightly bloody, and exhausted, Andrew felt calm enough to tell her what had happened. Renee, as Renee was known to do, decided to take the opportunity to look on the ‘bright side’ and be ‘optimistic’.

“Have you thought about a podcast?” Andrew just stared at her. “Think about it. You’re not tied down to a publication anymore. You have more freedom now. With a podcast, you can actually tell your story the way you want to tell it - using your own voice.”

He’d heard of these podcasts - heard how they stirred trouble in the written world purely for the fact that people were too lazy to _read_ anymore. Podcasts were not putting publications out of business, but they were making writers wary. That thought alone made the idea appealing, but it wasn't good enough.

He took a long drink of water from the bottle he’d been rolling between his hands and turned his thoughts to The Foxhole Network.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the struggling communications department at PSU, would it?”

It was true. Renee worked under their old professor, Chair of Communications, and Director of The Foxhole Network, David Wymack. She still had a secondary job working as a columnist for South Carolina’s, _The State_ , but served as TFN’s PR agent full time. Through their numerous meetings and sleuthing of his own, he’d heard that TFN was having a hard time staying afloat.

_Not like he cared._

Renee gave him a small smile. “Partly, yes. I think a true crime podcast like this would really help invigorate the program and increase listeners.” ‘ _True crime podcast_.’ He tried not to groan at the sound of it. “But, I meant what I said. This could be a good opportunity for you.”

“Dayly Exy with Kevin Day just ain’t cutting it, huh?” He couldn’t stop the dryness in his tone from sucking the life from his words.

Renee shook her head, her expression solemn yet calm, despite the sweat plastering a few hairs to her forehead. “Kevin does a wonderful job, but we need more variety in our line up. This would be mutually beneficial.”

-

Andrew never intended to go back to Palmetto for any real length of time. Bee was still there, so he would visit of course, but she was the only reason. He wanted to keep moving, keep going somewhere new. Researching, following leads, and concentrating on outside environmental factors were the perfect distraction from those inside his own head. Staying in one place for too long made him ansty - reminded him too much of _too long_ stays with foster homes when hope started to worm it’s way back in.

But, he couldn’t deny Renee was right. There was no confirmation but for the emails he’d collected and the feeling in his gut. All those years, all that hard work, amounted to nothing but the piss-poor idea of a podcast stretching before his dash. Reality hit him when he’d returned home that night after their session and it came with frenzied ideas that bounced around in his head.

Afterwards, he spent hours, days, listening to countless true crime podcasts - studying their format, their style. Some things worked for him, others didn’t. He didn’t want this to be **Serial** *. Not just a story to leave off at the end with no real answer. He wanted something definite, something _different_ , something that may well reflect the reality of the case. Even if at the end, he found nothing; a _nothing_ answer, was still _something_.  

He also didn’t want this to be a reenactment. No voice actors filling in for real people like they were characters, no dramatized scenes or cheap soundbites. Andrew wouldn’t botch this like **The Butcher**. This would be raw and uncensored and handled with the care and respect the victims deserved. But, there was a caveat that set him apart from the wildly popular podcasts that already existed.

While not by publications, these podcasts were backed by networks, radios, broadcasting channels, _sponsors_. He had very little money coming in from syndicated pieces, but nothing to pay for something of this scale.

Which meant, if he were going to do this, he couldn’t do it without backing. He needed money for travel, research, and bribes if necessary.  

Andrew had sat in his small home office for hours, rubbed the tiny bee tattoo behind his ear and sighed.

“I’ll think about it,” he’d murmured to himself, the buzz in his ear, and King in his lap.

-

One week ago, he was in the conference room of The Foxhole Network with his team; Wymack at the head of the table and Dan Wilds to his right, like they were the fucking Knight’s of the Round Table.

The podcast was discussed.

Andrew’s ideas were discussed.

His motivation was discussed.

His firing from the Globe was discussed.

And in the end, he walked out of that meeting with a promise to see this investigation through until the end, in exchange for a bi-weekly podcast, hosted by Andrew.

Now, here he was. At this table, staring at his laptop, missing Game of Thrones, and listening to Seth and Dan whisper, then go silent listening.

At almost 10:30PM, two and a half hours after the promised time thanks to Seth’s incompetence, the podcast was posted to cheers and claps of the four member team that made up _Red Rabbits_.

“Fucking finally,” Andrew muttered.

Rather than ‘pop bottles’, he fought temptation to light up again and continued answering questions while the team vibrated around him.

He answered questions about if he was a robot, about Dan bleeping out the curses, about Seth for some reason. After some contemplation, he decided to add the poster of **The Butcher** documentary. He wanted to point out to everyone how disgusting it was; how Nathan Wesninski was being portrayed as some charming, serial murderer - because even after everything, Andrew didn’t believe people realized what the media was shoving down their throats.

* * *

  _I don’t want to share this, considering the fact that most of you have likely already seen it. Nor do I really want to share_ **_Nathan Wesninski’s_ ** _face. But, it’s out there, you can fucking google him and he’ll pop right up._

_The reason why I’m posting, is because I feel like everyone should see the mockery that Edgar Allen has made of this entire case._

**_Nathan Wesninski_ ** _, stationed in the center as if he were part of some goddamned teen drama and he’s the heartthrob. It’s disgusting, it’s glorifying, and I sincerely hope none of you paid money for this._

_I can write an entire dissertation on this and maybe one day I will. For now, I’m tired._

__\- A_ _

* * *

 And he was done. He needed to go home, decompress, and watch Game of Thrones. He snapped the laptop shut.

“Where are you going, Minyard? Even you have to be happy about getting the damn thing out.” Andrew had always liked Wymack. He had been part of his ‘family’ since he took him under his wing. Dinners were often hosted at either his and Abby’s house, or Bee’s. He took a class with him on digital media when he was a freshman at PSU and it was one of his favorites. Wymack was gruff and blunt - didn’t take any shit. It was one of the many reasons why Andrew could tolerate him. That and he always had whiskey on deck.

“I’m going to fucking watch Game of Thrones and sleep. The rest of you carry on, but you better be ready for the next steps tomorrow,” Andrew said, grabbing his bag and ignoring the pile of ash he’d told himself to clean.

 _Someone else would_.

He walked to his office on the other side of the lounge and opened the door. King had been napping in the armchair in the corner of the room, basking in the moonlight with her tail twitching side to side. She’d become the network mascot in the last week, but she was still his cat. He couldn’t stand the thought of her alone with the boxes in his apartment all day, so he brought her to the studio with him.

No other reason.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to give you orders,” Dan yelled from her spot across the room, drink in hand.

Andrew ignored her, ignored them all, and left with the only thing he cared to interact with at the moment. He and King made their way home.

-

Clean, small, empty - he’d been moved in for over a week and the place still echoed with unfamiliarity.

His apartment was located right at the edge of campus, in a similar building to the one Wymack used to inhabit before he and Abby moved in together. It was convenient, it was cheap enough, and it would likely stay as empty as it was right now. Andrew had put more effort into furnishing his office at the Tower* than he had in his new home. Boxes lay strewn from room to room and the only things properly unpacked were his essentials and all of King’s belongings.

There was a single cheap Ikea couch he’d brought from his old apartment, resting lonely in the living room with unpacked miscellaneous items acting as side tables, a boring black coffee table, and a tv half-assedly mounted to the wall. Books lay in a wide pile against the far side that led out to a small balcony and bordering the other side of sliding glass doors was a tall cat tower.

The kitchen was nearly empty but for two mugs, a coffee maker, and a small microwave. The fridge held takeout containers and a half-eaten carton of Cookies n’ Cream in the freezer.

His bedroom was abysmally simple, with a queen bed taking up more than half its space, two black nightstands, and his clothes half unpacked in the closet. The bathroom faired the same.

His office was the only thing even partially moved into. He spent most nights in there when the insomnia took hold - slaving over notes upon notes of Wesninski files, leads, and past accounts.

The only thing that remained consistent around the apartment, was the cat toys and essentials strewn from room to room depending on where Andrew kicked them and/or where King decided they needed to be.

This wasn’t really a ‘home’. Bee’s place was home, Abby and Wymack’s was home, his apartment in Boston had started to _become_ a _home_. This? This was just a place he came back to after spending an entire day staring at work, to either sleep, shower, or stare at more work.

In tonight's case at least, he had something to look forward to.

Sitting on his couch in his comfiest sweats - the ones that were a bit too long, but he refused to roll up because they kept his feet warm - he steadily worked through the remaining half of Cookies n’ Cream while his mind occupied itself with trying to remember plot points in Game of Thrones. His phone rested beside him, and every so often he tweeted his thoughts upon Dan’s insistence for keeping up a social media presence - all the while ignoring whomever the fuck was texting him.

Naturally, he filled his Twitter feed with spoilers and then went to bed.

Or, he put himself in his bed with the intentions to sleep, while knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Thoughts still seeped in and out of the conscious he was trying to make _subconscious_ , preventing any relief from the blissful monotony that was supposed to be _sleep_. Instead, he thought about how from this point on, it would be _forward forward forward_. It was onto the next steps and he would have to just keep pushing, keep moving, **_keep searching_**.

Eventually, he’d have to listen to the entire episode and if sleep wouldn’t claim him now, he assumed then was as good a time as any.

Reaching for his phone, he sat up in the bed. His sheet pooled around his hips and King gave an annoyed meow at being shifted from her spot. Andrew placed his free hand on her curled back in silent apology. He ignored any and all text notifications that occasionally lit up the screen (half filled with emojis and congratulations from Nicky - and one backhanded compliment from Aaron once he finished his rotations at the hospital), turned his phone on _Do Not Disturb,_ and searched for the podcast. After swiping away a new text from a (786) number, he grabbed a notebook out of the drawer and glasses from the bedside and settled in to take notes on what could be improved or missed from **Episode 1: Pilot**.

Andrew pressed play. He listened. Made a note about the opening. Listened. Made a note about how terrible his voice sounded. Then stopped.

Because something was missing.

He went back to the beginning. He had to be wrong. The alternative was not possible - was not what he was _promised_.

But alas, there it was.

Dan and Seth had cut his entire intro - his reasoning for doing this in the first place and his journey from publishing to podcasts.

Gone.

Like it never existed.

There was a sizzling beneath his skin, hot and insistent. He was livid, he was seething, he was -

Andrew stopped the podcast and put down his phone. Closing his eyes, he could hear a _buzz_ and rubbed at the ink behind his ear while trying to take deep breaths.

_What would Bee say?_

-

At the young age of thirteen, Andrew established himself with the beginnings of a record and was sent to juvie in a desperate attempt to get away from the last foster family he would ever have, the Spears. That record lead to a series of unfortunate events - wherein he finally met his long lost identical twin brother Aaron, and Aaron’s abusive, drug-addicted mother Tilda. Tilda was a gem of a woman, who gave up one twin and kept the other.

They both lived in South Carolina, which by proxy, meant that Andrew moved there as well once he’d served half his time after his uncle Luther, Tilda’s brother, found a way to get him out. The caveat was that he would have to attend weekly sessions with a therapist once settled in. That therapist was Betsy Dobson, or Bee.

Long story short, Tilda liked to hit and Andrew liked promises. He’d made a promise to his brother that she would never lay a hand on him again.

She didn’t.

Tilda died in a terribly tragic _accident_ and he was sure Bee _knew_.

When she died, Andrew and Aaron were left as two sixteen year old minors with no guardian. Their prying, loud-mouthed, compassionate, and caring cousin Nicky stepped in to take custody and help the twins get through high school. Betsy acted as a helping hand to do whatever she could from the sidelines to try and make the transition easier.

But, Nicky was only nineteen. He was young and driven and tried _so, so hard_. With his father, Luther breathing down his neck and threatening to take the twins away, and bills stacking up, he was out of his league even with Bee’s help.

Nicky worked two jobs - one waiting tables and the other bartending at a nightclub. His boyfriend Erik helped him buy a house so he could properly raise the twins, but food, shelter, and weekly therapy weren’t all it took to take care of two very troubled kids. He was a fine guardian, helped them with their German homework, and never tried to _parent_ them unnecessarily. He did his best and it wasn’t like his best wasn’t good enough for _them_ \- it just wasn't good enough for _him_. Slowly, all the stress, all the work, all the worry took its toll.

Andrew and Aaron tried to help out. Bee advised against it, but they nonetheless got jobs at the same nightclub Nicky worked at as dishwashers in the back. It was technically illegal, but everyone kept their mouths shut and tried to help out in any way they could.

It was a good job, a good gig - that was until four homophobic assholes tried to lay hands on what Andrew considered _his_.

The night ended with those four fucks in critical condition, Nicky in the hospital, and Andrew in handcuffs.

That’s when Bee stepped in. Besides Nicky, she was the only adult he’d ever trusted. In their years together after his release from juvie, they’d grown close. She was unlike any other adult he’d ever met and understood him in a way he likely wouldn’t ever be able to understand. Bee was not simply just a counselor, a therapist - she was his rock that kept him centered and grounded after so many things tried to rip him apart.

The _pigs_ wanted to send him back to juvie - he’d almost killed four men afterall. But, after Bee got a certain friend from college named Abby Winfield involved in his case, and some well placed security camera footage backing his claim of self-defense (as well as a good amount of finagling), Andrew was let off with a warning and mandated continued counseling. He’d dodged a bullet there and he only had those two women to thank.

He’d continue thanking them far into the future - especially Bee.

Because Bee stepped in even further. She knew how tired Nicky was and after  Andrew’s case, there was no way Nicky could safely, for his own mental health, continue raising the twins. So, with agreement from all parties, Bee took guardianship and removed the pressure off Nicky to allow him to live a normal life. Nicky ended up staying in South Carolina until the twins graduated high school - further growing a bond as a family. Nicky practically lived at Bee’s as well, soaking up the warm maternal waves that radiated from her.

In spite of Aaron’s drug addiction during his youth, he wanted to become a doctor, and Bee pulled together all of her resources to support Aaron’s goal. Andrew wasn’t going to let his brother out of his sight just yet, and together with Bee, Abby and her partner, Wymack’s support, they applied to every scholarship they could, eventually both earning full rides for their undergraduate studies at Palmetto State University.

Bee helped Andrew and Aaron work through a lot of trauma in that time, and she still did. Andrew didn’t think he would ever be a whole person, he didn't think he could ever have normal relationships like most people. Through Bee, he learned to be okay with that - he learned to not lessen his trauma or diminish what was done to him as a child, but rather accept that there were things that happened and try to find ways to build bridges and move on. She taught him that it was okay to not fit into societal norms and expectations, but rather do and say what he felt was right.

She was the bee in his ear - _buzzing_ and guiding him through life. She was always and would always be there for him - even when she wasn’t.

-

 _Stop Andrew. Take a deep breath. Review, reflect, recharge_.

He heard it now and he did what that _buzzing_ said. He stopped, he breathed, he thought about the problem, and he decided what he needed to do.

He needed to let people know. Immediately. The longer he let this go, the longer Dan thought she was in the right.

He picked up his phone again, letting a _bare_ wrist brush over King in the process, ignored the texts and calls coming in soundlessly and more frequently from that same number, and sent a text of his own.  

_‘Why’_

Dan replied immediately, ‘ _Legality issues, according to Abby. I will not see this studio shut down.’_

_‘You just made a terrible mistake. Congratulations.’_

Tossing his phone aside, Andrew resigned to no sleep, got up from his bed, grabbed his laptop, and booted it up. He searched for an ask in the inbox catered to this issue specifically. It wasn’t long until he found one:

_What do you expect the outcome of this to be?..._

Andrew did what he did best. He **wrote**. He explained. He committed to finding the transcript tomorrow that Dan had to have marked up for Seth’s instruction - and he would post that, too.

Because he’d be damned if he’d be silenced again.  

-

The next morning, Andrew took his time getting to the office. Anger still sizzled beneath his skin, but he breathed through any impulses. When he finally graced everyone with his and King’s presence, Dan was visibly tense.

His backpack hung off his back and King rested comfortably in his arms. Holding onto her helped him stay relatively calm when the breathing didn’t work and the _buzzing_ went ignored. Andrew probably should have gone straight to his office, but instead he stopped in the lounge and looked to Dan.

“We’re going to talk about this. Not now - just know, the people will hear the truth, whether you like it or not.” He didn’t grit his teeth or raise his voice. He remained steady and calm despite the storm building in his chest - ready to break free.

“Andrew, there are legal issues at play here,” Dan stood and her shoulders slumped. She gestured towards him, “Go talk to Abby about this. She said we could be sued by Edgar Allen Productions, the Moriyamas, the Boston Globe. I’m not going to see this program go down over your opinions - which are not important to this investigation.”

“Not important?” Andrew narrowed his eyes and watched as Dan closed her own and fought the impulse to take a step back. He heard that _buzz,_ felt King’s purr against his chest, and clenched his jaw for half a second. “We’ll see.”

Turning around, he retreated to his office only to find Renee waiting for him in King’s chair. Though she was the PR Agent of the company, she had stepped up as his Co-Producer for Red Rabbits. She also had her MA in Journalism and used it to help him research, plan, and she would be accompanying him on all their trips (if they could afford them).

Using his foot, he closed the door behind him and set King down. She padded over to Renee’s leg, jumped up, and claimed a spot in her lap. Andrew sat at his desk and booted up the desktop, not bothering to look at them.

The impulse to go back in the lounge and scream the Tower down was strong. His self-control was stronger.

He waited a few moments for his computer to fully boot and get his temper in check, before he asked quietly, “Did you know?”

“No” Renee’s answer was soft, but serious. “I would’ve warned you. I understand why Dan did it, but I do not agree with her.”  
Andrew just nodded and focused on pulling up their documents.  

 _Moving on_.

“Let’s plan. The first stop should be Baltimore,” Andrew said. “We need to check out the house and see if there are any leads we can follow there.”

King let out a small, whiny meow. Renee appeared next to him, partially catless with hair sticking to her clothes. She pulled over a small chair and her phone to take notes. “When do you want to leave?”

“Wednesday. We need to gather all the shit we can before the next podcast so we have more to discuss without giving too much away. We’ll plan and contact who we need today and tomorrow, then head out Wednesday.” He pulled out his own phone when it started buzzing, rolled his eyes, and silenced it.

“Same number?” Renee asked and Andrew nodded in the affirmative. He told her about it last night while they waited for the _botched_ episode to drop.  “Who do you think it is?”

“I know who it is,” Andrew replied, opening the email he’d gotten in the early hours that morning and leaned to the side for Renee to read.

“Wow,” Renee said, as she kept reading. “Why are you ignoring this?”

“Because she’s a fraud. I looked into it. She’s a vapid, millionaire, trust fund baby who has no idea what she’s talking about.” Andrew clicked back to their file filled with scanned documents and external links.

“But it looks like she could have infor-”

“No.”

Renee hummed. “Okay. So, I’ll look up flights to Baltimore, Wednesday morning.”

“The house is for sale. Put down contacting the realtor,” Andrew added, checking the website inbox while Renee jotted down their to-do list and rose to retrieve her laptop. He was in a great mood to answer stupid questions, and people never disappointed.

-

The rest of the day was a blur of failed attempts and concrete plans. No leads came out of them, but for a slurry of questions and comments - endless, unsubstantiated claims, and a lingering tension that stayed in the air of TFN into Tuesday.

That tension dissipated when someone decided to come after Andrew and his ‘professionalism’ on the website.

Andrew had been minding his own business in his office, eating and drinking his weight in donuts and coffee while he answered questions and tried to nail down the location of closed Wesninski case files. One of 20 notifications lit up on his phone about a post to the website and decided to look for himself. What he found was something he expected, because he’d heard comments like this ever since he started pursuing journalism:

* * *

  _Andrew doesn't seem particularly professional. Are you all sure that it's a good idea to have him being the main face of Red Rabbits? Surely such a complex, serious case like this requires people who are professional and are able to act both maturely and sensibly. Andrew seems to spend more time online answering asks, than he does doing research and actual hard work. Doesn't seem very adequate to me._

* * *

 His fingers itched to respond with words that would be no use.

 _Buzz_.

Nonetheless, he hit the box to start his reply - wrote something scathing that he would likely regret, and hit send. Unfortunately, a dialogue popped up that said something to the effect of technical issues.

“What the fuck...” he mumbled to himself, refreshed the page and found the question gone. Quickly jumping to their dash, the **question** had been posted with a lengthy response. He started to read, only because he was pissed that he didn’t get to rip whatever anon’s asshole this was and that someone else took away his thunder.

That someone else was Dan and it was...

* * *

  _I’m trying to answer this as fast as possible before Andrew beats me to it with something petty._

_While I understand your concern, we’re not going to do this. Despite the fact that Andrew is a little menace, he works tirelessly on this case and has been for weeks here at TFN™ and months prior to that. He brought this case to us. After his termination from the publication he was writing for, Andrew reached out to countless names to try and take this story. We were his last resort and we’re happy he put his trust in us to do him and this case justice._

_I don’t know why this means so much to him - especially if you know Andrew, so little does. But we need him here just as much as he needs us. And we’re really not going to answer any more questions on his intent, dedication, legitimacy, or credentials (Which, I assure you, surprised even us. If you’d like to read more on Andrew’s background, visit his About Me on the Team Page_ _for a brief overview)._

_I mean? This is his first moment to breathe. Some mornings we’ll come in and he never left. Andrew does all the groundwork. And sorry if this is a breach of his privacy, but according to Wymack, he hasn’t even unpacked since his move from Boston._

_You can question his methods, but we’ve come to learn that despite his madness, there’s always a reason. And I don’t expect any of you to know that if you don't know him. But we do. The years between graduation and now changed nothing. I assure you, we all thought he was going to do nothing with his life. And now he’s an acclaimed journalist - despite what’s been taken from him._

_So, yeah. He might be unprofessional and yeah, sometimes we want to fucking throttle him (it’s a shame his office locks from the inside). But he’s our unprofessional little monster._

_He’s a Fox._

_-Dan_

* * *

 Andrew decided that was enough for one day. He packed up his things, gathered King in his arms, and left the Tower with little more than a single nod towards Dan.

-

Wednesday morning, Andrew and Renee found themselves at the airport at 5:30 a.m. When Renee said she had booked their flight to Baltimore in the morning, Andrew had expected it to at least be after sunrise and not 5 _fucking_ 30.

He’d already downed three cups of coffee and waited with a bouncing knee to be called for boarding.

It was nerves, it was anxiety, it was _anticipation_ . All that stood between himself and potential answers was a single flight, with one stop, lasting for 4.5 hours. He could get over it and ignore the _buzz buzz buzz_ in his ear to _calm calm calm_ the fuck down.

Renee sat beside him, cheerful and ready as always. He didn’t understand how, but he didn’t understand how she did most things. Andrew pulled out his phone to distract himself, but only ended up having it confiscated by Renee when he started arguing with someone on twitter about drinking coffee before a flight.

“It’s too early to argue with people, Andrew. Talk to me. What do you want to do first when we get into town?”

So, they discussed. Andrew was successfully distracted and was only reminded of the nerves bundling in his stomach when their flight was called and it was time to board.

The things he did for justice.

-

Baltimore was gloomy, cold, and drizzling rain when they arrived. Andrew’s mood only soured more when he saw the rental car Dan reserved for them. Rather than in the garage like most of the rental cars, it was parked conveniently in the rain. Andrew glared at the old Chevy and the stickers half-assedly scraped away.

His top lip curled in disgust. “She did this on purpose,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No she didn’t. This is just what they had,” Renee sighed beside him and motioned towards it. “Come on. As long as it drives, it’ll be fine,” she patted it’s grey paint and smiled towards him encouragingly.

“I’m not fucking driving this thing,” he scoffed. “What if someone sees me?”

“A lot of fans in Baltimore?” Renee asked, raising an amused brow. She lifted her hand palm up, “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

Andrew _did not_ stomp his way back into the airport. He _did not_ walk all the way to one of the Newsstands and buy a crappy Baltimore cap with a cheap, embroidered crab on the front - and he _did not_ sit in the driver’s seat of this disgusting fucking chevy.

He wasn’t going to let someone else drive him around. The loss of control made him insane - it was one of the reasons why he refused to take taxis or Ubers.

With a last tweet directed at Dan, he pulled his hat low and set off for their hotel.

-

The rain picked up sometime around noon and part of Andrew’s mind noted how fitting it was.

 _Poetic_.

The city was awash in grays as they pulled into the Hilton. The harbor stretched beyond and waves splashed against the big pirate ship anchored against the commercialized dock. Umbrellas dotted the landscape, covering and concealing faces and identities in a way that had Andrew taking second glances - because there were always _what if’s_ nagging at the back of his head.

The hotel was as expected. Andrew made a note to bring up the fact that Dan could afford them lodging at some hotel in the harbor, but couldn’t cough up extra cash for the rental.

They at least had two rooms booked. Renee must have told Dan, because the receptionist handed them two keys, no questions asked and no further comment as they dropped off their few belongings and set out for lunch.

It wasn’t that he felt weird being in the same room as Renee. But the fact of the matter was, he had no idea how the meeting with the realtor would go and it was highly likely he’d be better off in a room by himself.

He also never knew when nightmares would hit, but stress triggered them and Andrew was silently grateful at Renee’s remembrance.

-

They made their way to the hotel restaurant for something quick to eat. Andrew felt wrung dry after the flight.

Bee tried to recommend him medication once - one that would help with his nerves. He never took it. Just the thought of having something chemical changing the process of his brain unnerved him; the loss of _control_ set his teeth on edge. The most he ever allowed himself was cigarettes and alcohol, and when those were gone, King.

“What time is the meeting with the realtor?” Andrew asked. He knew the answer because he’d asked at least two other times since arriving in Baltimore, but it was like a tic he couldn’t help.

“Three,” Renee replied, forever patient. “She’s going to meet us there. She thinks we’re interested in buying it.”

His fingers twitched for a cigarette or soft fur to pet. Instead, he lifted his glass of water to his lips, but stopped halfway. “Why would she think we’re interested in buying it? We just need to see the inside.”

Renee shrugged. “I worry if we told her the actual reason we were there, she’d be less willing to give details. If she thinks we may buy it, she’ll show us every nook and cranny if we ask.”

 _Ah._ This was why he needed Renee here.

-

After lunch, they made their way to the Wesninski house.

_8620 Meadow Ct, Baltimore, MD 21207._

According to Google Maps, it rest on the outskirts of a park called _Dead Run_ . _Dead Run_ was connected to Leakin Park, aka Baltimore’s famous body dump site.

 _Fiting_.

It was about a 20 minute drive - 20 minutes that would be filled with anxiety and anticipation bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He could already feel the uncomfortable frenzy beginning, so he lit up a cigarette and rolled down the window. Renee gave him a look of disapproval that he dutifully ignored. However, she didn’t comment and instead reached for his pack in the backseat. Once it was in her lap, she raised a brow to make sure it was okay, before she rifled through the front pocket and withdrew his voice recorder.

Yes, one of those blocky, black things. It was a safer option than working off his phone: advanced enough for excellent quality and archaic enough to avoid any sort of encryption - which, was more common than one would think.

“Wednesday, April 17, 2:36 PM. We should begin here. Where are we going? What are we doing? Why are we doing it?” Renee held out the device.

Andrew glanced at her. He took a deep drag and let out the smoke in a sigh out the window. Wetting his lips, he began.

[ Record On ]

-

They pulled up to a house that looked like every other home on the cover of American Dream Magazine. It was huge, made completely out of brick with dozens of windows - more than Andrew had at first expected. There was a large white door, framed by two ridiculous columns that helped support a white-trimmed blue roof that felt out of place in this simple suburb. An American flag stood sadly on a podium. The rain beat it down, just as it beat the realty sign holding on for dear life at the edge of the property.

Despite the undeniable beauty of the home, there was an obvious energy that permeated from it and Andrew felt sick. Perhaps it was the _domesticity_ \- the look of white-picket perfection, with its freshly manicured lawn and obvious facade of warmth. Or perhaps it was that, paired with the knowledge of what went on behind those closed doors, beneath it’s garage, and in the belly of the proverbial beast that used to reside within.

The realtor met them at the front door.

She shook out a dripping umbrella with one hand and with the other, she waved enthusiastically, “Good afternoon!”

Renee hurried to meet her underneath the protected entry way, while Andrew tucked the running recorder into his pocket to protect it from the rain.

“Good afternoon,” Renee replied, no disdain in her voice. She really was a wonder. “Thank you so much for showing us the house - especially in this weather. We really appreciate it.”

_Buzz._

Andrew took off his hat and tapped the water off against his leg once he joined them.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine! My name is Shelly, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Renee’s hand and holding it out to Andrew. He looked at it, looked at her, and raised a brow. _Shelly_ cleared her throat and dropped her hand.

“Anyway! I’m so glad you two are interested. It’s such a great home for a young couple.”

Before Renee could open her mouth, Andrew answered for her. “I don’t fuck women,” then shouldered his way past the realtor and through the front door, which was already cracked open.

He ruffled his hair as he looked around and narrowed his eyes. Renee was apologizing for him on her way in, trying to offer explanations. “He’s a famous author, very eccentric. He’s looking for a home in the area and this seemed perfect.”

The realtor seemed appeased, glossy Barbie pink lipstick smile in place.

It seemed fitting in this home.

Shiny hardwood floors were obstructed by the dirt sticking at the bottom of his boots.

That felt fitting as well.

Welcoming them from the front door was a foyer, open to the kitchen and dining area. To the right of them was a set of oak stairs that matched the trim around the large windows, letting in gloomy light that clashed with the sterile chandeliers that hung stationed around the main floor.

“Okay!” Shelly said, clapping her hands together. “Here, you can see the main foyer. It’s an excellent space for greeting guests. There’s a fireplace just here in the living room-”

Andrew tried to envision a little Nathaniel walking down those stairs, sitting before that fireplace, eating at an absent dining room table.

“Bedrooms.” He didn’t want to hear about these particulars.

“I’m sorry?” Shelly pulled back her chin and looked to him. Renee sidled beside him, but he ignored her.

“I want to see the bedrooms,” Andrew repeated. Why was this so hard?

Shelly blinked owlishly, then nodded slowly and quickly regained her composure. “Ah - okay, yes. Bedrooms! They’re upstairs, follow me!”

There were scratches on these stairs from years ‘worn down’. According to the Zillow ad he’d found this on, no one had lived here since 2004. They also defined the Wesninski home as a _fixer upper_. He guessed that was how they hid the dark spot on the second floor landing - likely from blood connected to the depression in the wall above it.

Or perhaps that was just juice spilled by a toddler - a dent from rowdy kids.

 _Familiar_.

The ~~home~~ house smelled like fresh paint. The floorboards creaked as they walked into the room at the end of the hall.

“So here,” Shelly said motioning, “is one of the smaller rooms. There are three more down the hall and a master on the third floor.”

Andrew looked around. Could this have been Nathaniel’s room?

_Could that have been his blood?_

It was painted a muted shade of grey, light and easy on the eyes. _It matched the sky outside._ The floors were better kept than those in the hall. There were two large, worn windows out looking the backyard, which was just as empty as the rest of the house.

Andrew walked over to the closet and opened the door. There was a cord hanging from an old, bare bulb dug into the ceiling. He pulled it so the light came on and stared at the empty space.

He could imagine it full of kids clothes, toys, and games - because families like these always had so many _things_.

 _They thought things could hide the rot on the inside_.

He was about to turn the light off when something caught his eye. It was small, a marking against the wall, and nestled by the covered moulding. The smell of paint was heavy in the air, so there should be no reason for anything from _then_ to survive. Perhaps a scuff from a workers boot or -

Andrew crouched down, leaned closer, and squinted.

Written in the wall, bleeding through the fresh paint, were messy words - like a small child had scribbled them.

**_don’t Be Bad_ **

So tiny, so _old_ , both b’s were capitalized in the wrong places. Andrew pulled out his phone and took a picture. The realtor hurried over.

“Oh, have you found something?” She asked, smile carefully in place.

“No,” Andrew said, putting his phone in the opposite pocket from the recorder. “Just wanted a reference for the paint color.”

“The paint color... inside the closet?”

“Yes. I want to see the master bedroom.”

Renee looked to him in question, but he shook his head minutely. Later. Because Shelly was here, but also because he needed a minute to mull this over.

_don’t Be Bad_

Andrew had been that kid once. Hiding in the closet and thinking, ‘ _if only I were good. If only I weren’t such a bad kid. They wouldn’t hurt me like they do if I_ **_behaved_ ** _.’_ He had no proof that Nathaniel wrote those words, but no one had lived in the house since them - so it was likely. He’d been doing this long enough not to jump to conclusions, but still.

 _Still_.

He stared around the master bedroom in a haze. There was nothing remarkable about it. Besides its obnoxious size, the paint in here was a sickly yellow and Andrew couldn’t stand being in there for very long.

“I understand there’s a bonus room, under the garage?” Renee asked. “We’d like to see that. Andrew is looking for a space with an abundance of privacy for his writing.”

The realtor's fake smile faltered, broke character the tiniest bit. Then was back in place like nothing was said.

“Absolutely! It’s such a great space. It’s unfinished, so it’ll probably need some work. But! It’s got such great potential.”

They followed Shelly back down to the ground floor. Next to the main staircase was a small set of stairs that led into a living/den area. Against the far wall was a door. Shelly led them into the garage, then through a second door that Andrew would not have seen if she had not shown him.

Down more stairs, lights turned on by themselves as they descended. The result was almost clinical - white, sharp light leading them to a murderer’s den.

Which was exactly what it looked like.

“Here we are,” Shelly said, her voice echoing. “As you can see, it needs work - as I said. But, it’s very spacious and there’s even an entrance from the outside so you can get in and out without going through the main house!”

 _Of course, there is_.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Renee said, stepping in front of Shelly. Like the genius she was, Renee engaged her in conversation and Andrew knew it was for his benefit. Turning around, he let his eyes pass over what could be kindly referred to as a _morgue_.

He floors were made up of smooth tile with drains stationed evenly _-conveniently-_ around. The walls were cinder block and cold. There were hooks where something had been hung once and a large sink in one corner. Where there weren’t exposed walls with depressions and holes scattered about, there were cabinets built in.

Andrew pulled out his phone and opened one of them. Despite their emptiness, he took a few pictures, before extending his shots to the discolored spots on the floor where tables must have once been - and even larger stains that could have been nothing other than blood.

The door that Shelly had commented on was heavy and made of metal. Andrew pressed his palm flat against it and wondered,

 _What if_.

He’d had enough. Nodding to Renee, he turned back towards the stairs.

She told Shelly they’d seen enough and together, they left the house and the demons inside it.

[ Record Off ]

-

The recorder sat in the cup holder between them as they drove back through the city.

[ Record On ]

“Are you going to tell me?” Renee asked.

His fingers _did not_ shake as he took a long drag from his cigarette.

The rain had let up while they were inside the house, leaving behind a wash of grays and peaking sunlight that bathed the _offensively disgusting_ car as they drove through the city.

“Not yet,” Andrew said, because he was still processing - or still _trying_ to process. “Let’s get coffee. We’ll trade observations and get dinner later.”

Renee pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ll look for a place,” she said, looking down at her phone.

Andrew glanced out of the corner of his eye, down at the recorder blinking up at him.

_don’t Be Bad_

Andrew’s teeth played with his lip ring as he flicked half the cigarette out of the window and gripped the wheel.

“Can you turn that off?”

[ Record Off ]

-

Baltimore was both falling apart and flourishing. The majority was made up of crumbling buildings and deep poverty, while the minority was spread out in pockets of gentrification and insane wealth.

They drove down a long road dubbed North Ave. Panhandlers stood in the streets, walking up to cars and holding cardboard signs. Across from their red light was the complete opposite. Brownstones lined the way with trees budding spring blossoms. Privileged kids walked about with their fancy confections, completely ignoring the life that extended beyond their campus.

Renee pointed to a free spot at the side of the road and Andrew parked. When he got out, he slammed the car door harder than necessary. He told himself it was because it was ugly and he hated it - because he missed the old GS he had at home.

He knew he was lying to himself.

_don’t Be Bad_

The coffee shop was small and there was a line that extended to the door. Renee managed to squeeze inside, but Andrew stood on the front steps to wait for more space. He didn’t like being close to others and he knew he wouldn’t fare well in his state of mind. That much, he at least knew.

 _Buzz_.

When it was their time to order, Andrew steeled himself and pressed his hands flat to the counter.

“Listen. This is not hard, but I need you to listen closely, okay?” Andrew said to the young teen behind the counter very slowly.

“Okay...” he said, brows furrowed.

“I need a caramel latte with extra caramel flavoring. I need you to put whipped cream on the bottom of the cup, fill it halfway, add whipped cream in the middle, fill it the rest of the way, and put whipped cream on top.” Andrew gestured, “Bottom, middle, top. Can you handle that?”

The teen said yes, but Andrew would be the judge of that. Nonetheless, he stepped aside to let Renee order and he paid for them both.

There was an open table at the back of the shop squeezed next to the long counter and they sat while they waited for their drinks. Renee placed the recorder on the table, once she got a look of approval from him.

[ Record On ]

Finally, Andrew pulled out his phone and brought up the picture of the words in the closet.

When he showed Renee, her eyes squinted for only a second before they focused. Renee sighed, her bangs falling before her eyes as a frown tugged at the corners of her lips, “That’s... terribly sad.”

“Do you think this was Nathaniel?” Andrew didn’t realize he’d lowered his voice.

“I don’t think we can know that for certain. But, no one has lived in that house since them...”

Their drinks were called and Renee got up to get them, handing Andrew his phone back. He looked at the picture one more time and put his phone away. His teeth played with the piercing again, until he reached for the recorder.

[ Record Off ]

“Hey,” She said, setting his drink before him and sitting back down. She waited until Andrew looked up to meet her eyes. “We’re doing what we can for him now. Even if it’s just finding out what happened. We’re trying to get some justice for him and his mother.”

Andrew rubbed his bee; she was _buzzing_ again.

“I miss King.”

“I know.”

-

In the end, they didn’t find anything else particularly useful. He’d had expectations but left with more unnerving questions than answers. Unfortunately, they were questions that would lead nowhere and didn’t really matter in the end.

What happened in the house before they left, was not the question.

What happened when they disappeared, was.

He just had to keep reminding himself that.

He and Renee had mulled everything over. They’d looked at the pictures Andrew took and they even allowed themselves to speculate on life inside that house. However, no matter how many horrific homes Andrew had been in and no matter how many experiences Renee might have had, they had no idea. With nothing to go on, there were a thousand different reasons why Mary could have decided to run and a thousand different possibilities of what had happened to Mary and Nathaniel since then. There was no point in guessing - everything was equally right and wrong.

Luckily, the flight home was scheduled for later the next day. Andrew could sleep in, he could record notes, he could call Bee.

-

“So, how are you feeling about that, Andrew? That had to be a bit gut-wrenching.”

The blanket he had wrapped around himself couldn’t hold him tight enough. Andrew closed his eyes and tried to let Bee’s soft, understanding voice upset the visions of the closet inside his head.

“Yes,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“You know, it’s okay to feel a bit triggered Andrew. It’s okay to relate to this boy you didn’t know.”

_Don’t._

There was a small stretch of silence and Andrew decided not to fill it.

“You’re showing empathy and that’s a wonderfully human thing to do. You know what that’s like and I think that’ll help you figure this case out in the end...”

He inhaled a slow breath and dipped his head to rub his eyes. Andrew decided he’d had enough for one night. “Have you talked to Aaron lately?

-

He hung up the phone feeling calmer. His brain was still racing, but it felt more like a quickly flowing river, instead of a roaring hurricane. He really did miss King. Having her weight on the bed with him had been such an adjustment. He’d startle awake every time she jumped on the bed in the beginning. Now? It was a comfort, _she_ was a comfort. Bee had said it was good for him, that he’d learned to trust himself enough to know that King would not hurt him - that she would comfort him if he let her.

She was right.

However now, the consequence of that allowance, that acceptance, that _bond_ , was he relied on her far too much. She was his salve, his anchor for when his anxiety was peaked or his head was a storm. When she wasn’t there, he felt off center, unbalanced, almost _lost_.

He would never admit to anyone out loud how much he loved that cat. He told himself that’s all it was.

-

By morning, he found a decent coffee shop somewhere on the outskirts of the harbor. It was dubbed _The Bun Shop_ , and apparently, the thing to have was their Vietnamese coffee. Andrew had them add whipped cream despite the amount of sweetened condensed milk in it, and they evenly distributed it properly and everything.

That was almost enough to help him forget the nightmares that’d kept him up all night - almost enough to distract him from the plane he was going to have to get on.

Almost.

-

The flight back was horrible. The first leg of the journey there was turbulence and Andrew was sure he’d die so many times, he ended up telling Renee that she had to take King if anything ever happened to him. She agreed humbly.

The only good thing to come out of the flight was the lack of spammed (786) texts and a message from Dan with a picture of the podcast ratings.

Despite the redactions, Red Rabbits was at number two on the charts and Andrew felt a swell of vindication. Sure, he was almost positive their first episode rode the wave of **The Butcher** hype - but that was a strong start nonetheless. Thousands of people _heard_ it. Despite the content that was left out, he was sure many would come back for another round. If anything, because of sheer curiosity.

That was more than enough for him.

 _Fuck the Globe. Fuck Edgar Allen Productions. Fuck the Moriyamas. This was happening_.

He’d shown Renee and she smiled like she knew it was inevitable.

-

They made it back to South Carolina without Renee having to take custody of King and Andrew felt his phone vibrate almost as soon as he stepped off the plane. It was a text from Dan.

_‘Need you here now. Come to the studio as soon as you land.’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘We’ll talk when you get here.’_

Andrew huffed and Renee glanced over to him as they walked through the airport parking lot. “Dan is requiring our presence at the studio immediately.” He decided to act annoyed even though that was the first place he would’ve gone regardless. King was still there being tortured by Seth and he needed to air his grievances about the piece-of-shit rental he was left to drive.

“Alright,” Renee said. “I need to check on some things anyway.”

Andrew slid into the driver’s seat of his GS and took a moment to pat the wheel. She was such a good car.

-

Once back at the studio, Andrew tried not to look too eager to get inside. His fingers itched to hold King, to pick her up, and smell her sweet fur. Distractions had been helpful these past few hours, but his anxiety still sparked beneath his skin and he desperately needed his comfort.

When he walked through the TFN doors at the top of the Tower, his eyes were immediately looking around for a puff of black and white.

“She’s in your office,” Dan said, coming out from the booth. Her hands were on her lips and a tension similar to a few days ago still prickled in the air. “And so is your visitor.”

“Excuse me?” Andrew asked quickly, but quietly. His eyes glanced towards his office and he felt his brows furrow. “You let someone in my office?” _You let someone in my office, with_ **_King_ ** _?_ His space was his space, his cat was his cat, and he didn’t like people around his things without his consent.

Dan sighed and pushed her braids off her shoulder, then gestured with that same hand. “Just go talk to her. She’s been here for hours and refuses to leave until she’s talked to you.”

 _She_.

 _Fuck_.

Andrew clenched his jaw and walked over to his office. When he opened the door, he was met with exactly as he feared. From the blond hair, the long dark legs, the vapid smile, and smug look - he knew.

**_(786)_ **

Allison Reynolds had taken her exhortation to the next level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Glossary:  
> 'if anything happened to that cat' - yes, this line is from B99 lol.  
> Tower - Important! This is no longer the dorm! This is the PSU Communications building!  
> Serial - Podcast by This American Life. One of the biggest podcasts out there and virtually changed the true crime - podcast landscape! You can listen [here](https://serialpodcast.org/).
> 
> Thank you all again! Kudos and comments appreciated and dont forget to check us out at [Red Rabbits Pod](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Episode 2: Baltimore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _White Picket Perfection_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for the Chapter ahead:  
> 1: Another sorta kind of summary from last weeks Audio Notes. More detail this time with history and context!  
> 2: A few warnings ahead as well. This chapter gets fairly dark, darker than the one previously. Warnings ahead for brief descriptions of child and domestic abuse, as well as a small cw for blood. Nothing major.  
> 3: Keep up on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for pictures of evidence. We will be posting, and adding them to the chapter throughout the week!  
> *Glossary  
> Hae Min Lee - We in no way, wanted to glorify or use her horrific murder as a talking point. Please, if you have the free time, go listen to [Serial - Season 1](https://serialpodcast.org/season-one), [Undisclosed - Season 1](https://undisclosed-podcast.com/episodes/season-1/), or the HBO documentary [The Case Against Adnan Syed](https://www.hbo.com/the-case-against-adnan-syed?pid=googleadwords_int&c=Google%7cSearch%7cMKL%7cIQ_ID_-VQ16-c&camp=Google%7cSearch%7cMKL%7cIQ_ID_-VQ16-c&gclid=Cj0KCQjwnpXmBRDUARIsAEo71tTHOZMaS0AwHZCf_jrb-MsCRrmJxJyrxljHXuRng_GuDtnumFtos3saAsIzEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds). There are also many other podcasts, articles, and books based upon this. You can find them with a simple search.  
> Understand when we talk about horrific things in this, it is in no way light mannered. We hope that comes across.  
> Leakin Park - A very real location, with a very dark history. All the places in Baltimore that we've mentioned exist. 
> 
> You can follow us on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod)! We love talking to all of you!
> 
> Thank you again for all the love and support. We are still absolutely blown away! Like, wow guys, seriously! 
> 
> We are going to start answering comments! Expect those as well. 
> 
> Ah, trying to keep this short! With all that being said, enjoy this week's Episode. - R

_[ Piano. Sirens wailing ]_

_//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//_

_//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//_

_[ Run Little Rabbit Run, Run ]_

_//He hid behind... He thought he could hide behind a door. It was a nice door - expensive door.//_

_//The shocking part about a lot of these cases is how various circumstances and situations can result in somebody just completely vanishing. In a second they’re gone...with no trace of what happened to them.//_

_[ Orchestral music ]_

_//If you don’t want it found, you can take it somewhere. You could bury it. Put it in the trunk of a car and have it crushed.//_

_//At this point, Baltimore Police are fearing the worst.//_

_//We’re not talking about Runaways, we’re talking about situations where we know the people are in significant risk of harm.//_

_//Detectives are now working with authorities in Parkland and no where there have they seen this pair.//_

_You’re listening to Red Rabbits. I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

-

 _Don’t pass out_.

He didn’t. That was very important.

 _Flight_ was so ingrained in him, in his blood and bones, that he fought against the haze that was threatening to throw him down a dark spiral. He had to _go_ , had to _run_ , had to be safe. _Always._

But _always_ was not today. Because there was a problem.

A man hovered above, dark skinned and dark eyed, with short dreads framing his face. Neil squinted up in confusion.  

“Oh my god, oh my god, I hit someone!” Dread Guy said, looking around.

Neil looked around, too. There was a big commercial truck off to the side of the road fucking up traffic. Neil was lying in the center lane (it seemed). Cars passed them quickly, obscuring any and all pedestrians from his view. Horns honked loudly in the already congested air, blowing out Neil’s ears as drivers changed lanes in the way only New Yorkers do.

His phone glinted on the ground, shards of glass shining in the passing headlights.

“Shit, shit, shit. Are you okay, man? I’m so sorry. We have to get out of the middle of the road. Someone’s gonna get this on their cell phone if we don’t hurry.”

_Cellphone. Media. Exposure. Danger, danger, danger._

_Get. Up._

“Fuck-” Pain radiated everywhere and nowhere all at once. Neil shot out his hand and grabbed his phone. His wrist screamed in protest and he hissed from his teeth. He then tried to jump up, tried to get his feet underneath him to run far and run fast. Time was running out, ticking _toc, toc, toc._ But his legs failed him, his balance failed him, his fucking throbbing ankle failed him. Dread Guy caught him before he fell and automatically started guiding him past the rushing cars and yellow light to get him in the truck that hit him. He couldn’t even dig his heels into protest, couldn’t say anything but, “Why the fuck are you driving a pick up in New York?”

Blood dripped into his eye and Neil wiped at his forehead to feel the familiar warm slick of it between his fingers.

“I was on the way home from a game in Jersey. _Fuck you’re bleeding! Okay, okay_ ,” Dread Guy took a deep breath, “Get in, dude. Let me take you to a hospital or call an ambulance or something. It’s the least I can do-” With one arm wrapped around Neil’s waist and the other holding his arm, they made their way to the truck. Once inside, Neil did a quick assessment while the man walked around the car.

 _Everything’s fine._ **_7:45_ ** _. You can do this Nathaniel. Be smart. Assess._

_Head wound. Wrist hurts. Ankle hurts. Nothing broken._

The man got in, pulled out his phone and started to dial.

“No!” Neil shot his arm out and knocked the phone from the guys grip. “Stop.”

Dread Guy held his hands up in surrender from behind the wheel and looked to Neil with wide eyes.

 _Breathe in._  

“No hospitals. No ambulance. I’m fine -”

“You’re bleeding from your head.” More horns screamed. The light was changing again. Yellow turned to red in the car.  “You can’t walk. I hit you, I _hit_ you with a _truck_!”

“I’m _fine_. Just take me a couple of blocks down the road and drop me off. I have an appointment to keep.”

_Appointment. Frankie._

Reminders flooded in quickly as he looked down at his phone. Cracked. He pressed the home button and it came to life. The call must have ended when he was hit. Neil clenched his jaw.

 _Breathe out_.

 _Backpack_.

He pressed his free hand to his chest and felt the straps.

Dread Guy watched him, all the while shaking his head with guilt written all over his face. “You’re hurt man. You can barely walk, your head is bleeding, you’re cradling your wrist like it might fall off, and I cracked your phone.”

Neil dropped his wrist. “I’m _fine_. It’s fine.”

“You’re not fine. It’s not fine. Can I at least drop you off at home? Or a friends house?”

“No, just drop me off a few blocks down.” Neil glanced away from the man and quickly tried to reorient himself in the city as pedestrians crossed the street _safely_ (or as safe as one can get in this city).

Still midtown. Madison Square Garden stood tall above them, signs and billboards lit their landscape as the light turned green and they were finally able to go.

 **_7:52_ ** _. You can do this._

Dread Guy stared at him for a few seconds before turning his eyes to the road, sighing, and rubbing his forehead. “Listen, you’re hurt. You were coming from Penn right? You traveling? If you don’t have anywhere to go, at least come back to my place. It’s the least I can do. I have a spare bedroom. You can rest for tonight. Take off in the morning. You can’t go anywhere with blood dripping down your face -” He spoke fast, like he couldn’t get the words out quick enough. He took a big breath and Neil wiped that blood away with the sleeve of his hoodie.

_Great._

They came to another stop a few blocks down. The city was busy tonight, or maybe it always was. His ankle was throbbing worse, his wrist was swelling. Neil closed his eyes and tried to breathe again.

“I’m Matt, by the way. Let me help you.”

“Neil.” Automatic, wrong, _fucked_.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re stuck with that name now, Nathaniel_.

He clenched his jaw.

“What do you say, Neil?”

_I say I’m fucked. Stupid. I’m going to miss my flight - Frankie._

He ran his thumb over his phone and felt a bit of glass dig into his thumb. He pressed harder.

Then sighed.

Matt didn’t seem like a mobster in disguise. His face was open and friendly and _familiar_ somehow. Not in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand, but familiar in that way that some people just _are_. And the fact of the matter was, Matt was right. He could barely walk and the pain in his ankle was now radiating up his leg. He’d never be able to get around the city on foot like this. His plane was to take off in two hours and he still hadn’t met up with Frankie. He’d missed his escape - he was tired, he was rubbed raw.

He was defeated.

“Fine. But I’m leaving in the morning.”

 _Stupid_.

Matt smiled a white toothed smile just as the second light turned green. “Deal.”

_-_

_Two weeks ago, in our first episode, we summarized the hype and stigma surrounding the Wesninski case. In that, we covered how the case itself revolved around one man and one man only. We discussed how any and all media - in addition to the authorities - have ignored not only the existence of Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski (wife and son of Nathan), but the disappearance of them as well._

_What you did not hear in that episode, was my intro. After the delay in posting, I found out later in the night that my background, my reason for doing this, was cut completely. Apparently, according to staff here at TFN, it could have created legal issues with my former employer and Edgar Allen Productions - which, if you remember, are the creators of the disgustingly popular documentary we mentioned last week,_ **_The Butcher_ ** _._

_After several days, I released the original, edited, and final transcripts. If you have not seen them, a link will be provided in the description of this episode where you can read for yourselves. It will provide further insight and I will not repeat myself._

_With all that being said, going into this podcast I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew that my words would be taken out of context, twisted, manipulated to form something else. I did not, however, expect my own team to do the same. Going forward, you the listener can expect full transparency. Unedited. Uncensored. And I will be reviewing every episode before it is posted._

-

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_.

Neil had made a terrible mistake. It seemed to be a theme with him lately.

They were on the Upper East side, just where he needed to be. He could run, he could ditch Matt and try _still_.

But the clock read **8:25**. It took over a half hour to get through traffic and in that time, he assessed more of the damage his body had been dealt.

It wasn’t looking good.

When they got to the high rise apartment building that apparently held Matt’s home, Neil knew he was filthy fucking rich. Trust fund baby? Wunderkind? Developer of a stupid fucking app that millions of people downloaded?

It was none of those things.

Neil limped into the apartment with Matt’s unwanted (but needed) assistance and was immediately on edge.

_Fuck._

It was nicer than any building he could ever remember being in and he had not grown up poor, pre-escape, in the slightest.

The door opened to the foyer which lead straight down a long hallway with art hung on the walls like they were at a gallery. Simple, yet dappled with extravagance that looked necessary when they most certainly weren't. Everything was white with splashes of color and Neil was...was.

Immediately to the left was a bathroom with marble everything. And straight to the right was the living and dining area, which was open to the ridiculous kitchen. Matt walked them in that direction, taking his time and lifting some of the weight from Neil that made him feel uncomfortable. Made him feel positive that Matt could feel the scars beneath the heavy cotton of his sweater.

_Not possible. Relax. You’re fine. Everything is fine._

With another steadying breath, he turned his eyes to the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the entire city. Neil stopped trying to walk and pulled them to a halt.

“This is...” Neil started.

“A lot, I know. But, it has a gym and a giant hot tub, so I couldn’t resist,” Matt said, looking around fondly. Despite the extravagance of high ceilings, colorful art, and stupid shining floors that Neil was positive he was tracking his blood across - it was...simple. The furniture was modern with clean lines and looked like it had been chosen for comfort over style. Neil tore his eyes away from the Upper East skyline, turned his mind away from the thought that soon his plane would be lifting off, right when he noticed the pictures on the walls and the trophy case in the corner.

_No._

He froze.

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me_.

**_Familiar, but familiar in that way that some people just are._ **

_Wrong_.

He knew Matt. He didn't _know_ him, know him. But, he knew who he was. Some of the pictures were of an exy team mid-celebration. The trophy case held MVP awards, shiny and gold and harsh on Neil’s eyes. He swallowed hard.

_What have you gotten yourself into, Nathaniel?_

“Matt Boyd,” Neil breathed. Starting backliner for the New York Lynxes and one of the best in the game. “You... play Exy.”

Matt gently let go of Neil once he figured Neil could hold himself up and rubbed the back of his neck. His smile was sheepish and his shoulder shrugged, “Ah... Yeah, guilty as charged. Part of the reason why I wanted you out of the road so quickly...people and their phones, you know? We were bound to attract attention.”

 _Right_.

Neil’s chest hurt and all of a sudden, his pulse sped. He was in the house of a famous exy player. He had been hit by Matt Boyd. He couldn’t deny that a little part of him was giddy about it. How many hours he had spent with his nose in an Exy magazine, reading this guy’s stats and interviews to get away from Ashleigh’s _Who Done It_ bullshit?

_Fuck._

Matt was right. Being seen with a famous exy player would be devastating for the whole “don’t get found” thing he was trying to do here.

_Bright side. Optimism. Not good for survival, Nathaniel._

“Is that a problem?” Matt asked, when Neil continued to stare at him.

He blinked, shook his head, felt a twinge of pain and the blood start to drip more. He quickly pressed his wrist to the spot and Matt made a sound of disapproval as he helped Neil towards the ridiculous kitchen.

“No. No, it’s fine. Sorry. Just shocked how one of the best backliners in the league can have such poor defense...” Not meant to be a joke.

Matt barked a laugh and deposited Neil on one of the stools that sat at the large, white island. “Touché,” his smile matched the counter.

“Really. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I’m going to have to reschedule my appointment.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, man of course. Let me grab the first aid kit and show you the spare room and bathroom.”

Neil waved off Matt’s help this time and limped behind him out of the living area and back into the hallway with the art. There was a door to the right that Matt opened into a huge room with a queen sized bed and an attached bathroom. Neil was... suitably impressed.

_Stop it. You’re in and out. Be smart not phased._

“Do you need any help with bandaging up?” Matt asked, pointing to his head where Neil was hurt. Neil shook his head.

“Is that backpack all you have?” Matt continued, nodding towards the pack on Neil’s back.

“Yeah. All I need.”

“Okay. Well, there are extra toothbrushes and toiletries under the sink. Do you need something to sleep in?”

 _Yes_.

“No.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. I’m the door at the end of the hall. Holler if you need anything. Feel free to raid the kitchen.” Matt clapped him on the back and Neil managed to hide a flinch. Nonetheless, Matt said quickly, “Shit, sorry!”

Neil shook his head and Matt excused himself, closing the door behind him which Neil promptly locked and immediately pulled his phone from his pocket with his bloody hand.

 _Frankie_.

He found the number and called.

No answer.

 _Fuck_.

He had to get a hold of him. He needed to get those fucking papers to get out of the country. He’d already sent Frankie most of his money and there was no way he’d able to buy them so quickly off another contact. He’d missed his flight, he’d missed his appointment, what if he completely missed his chance?

 _Breathe_.

Neil collapsed onto the end of the bed with his bleeding head in his hands.

_Stop Nathaniel. Stop. Think. Reassess. This is a bump. Work around it. Loophole._

“Loophole...” he whispered to himself, then took a deep breath and ran his bloody hand through his hair. Blinking hard several times, he nodded and tilted his head back. With that hand, he felt around his ankle. It was sprained for sure and swollen. He couldn’t put weight on it without it hurting, but he’s had worse.

 _Ha_.

He’d have a few days before he’d be able to get around efficiently.

 _Fine_.

The wound on his head was dripping slower, staunching itself. That was a good sign and his wrist wasn’t _that_ bad.

 _Right. Good things: You have shelter and food. This place is a runaways dream and the security? It’s a high rise, expensive, on the Upper East, Central Park outside the window. Rich people shit. Celebrity people shit. Politician shit. They pay not to be bothered. This is good._ **_Good_ ** _. You wont need to leave for anything until you get in touch with Frankie._

 **_Tomorrow_ ** _._

Tonight would have to do. Tonight he would stay, reassess, find his _loophole_ , and figure out what his next step would be. For now, he stood, winced at the pain in his ankle, and limped to the bathroom.

-

_Glad that’s out of the way._

_This week, I feel obligated to thank you all, despite our hiccups. Not only has the reaction been unexpected, it’s overwhelming. I knew that to some extent, we would ride the proverbial wave of_ **_Butcher_ ** _hype. But this has been consistent attention - consistent numbers. Last week, we not only hit #2 on the Top Episode charts on Apple’s Podcast App in the US, but in the UK we were #1. That is fucking insane and it seems like a lot of you have followed us on our social media. So thank you._

_In addition to all that good shit, we also have had quite a few tips sent into our email (foxholenetwork@gmail.com). Renee’s told me to let you know that we read every email, every lead, every tip. If we have not responded, it is not for lack of your work, but us trying to figure what is credible and what is not. We appreciate the effort and help._

-

Neil woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and he nearly vomited - not because it smelled bad, but because it smelled so good and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something other than stale granola.  He rolled out of the comfortable bed and limped around for his clothes.

Last night, Neil had taken a shower and washed days of travel and blood from his skin. Afterwards, he took real inventory of any scraps that he received from getting hit by Matt’s stupid fucking pick-up, then patched his head with a simple bandage. It wasn’t deep, the sprains weren't bad, and he’d be _fine_.

He had no other clothes but the ones he’d worn for the past few days. They weren’t really presentible, but he had nothing else. Pulling them on, he then opened the door and the warm, smokey smell hit him full in the face. He practically floated to the kitchen.

But mostly he limped.

Matt turned from the stove and smiled when he saw him. “You hungry?”

“Um, yes,” Neil said, “if it’s not too much trouble.”

Matt laughed. “You think I cooked this for myself? Sit down there,” he gestured with the spatula towards the island, “and I’ll make you a plate.”

Neil did as told and watched Matt cook. Matt bopped his head to whatever music he had playing on his iphone. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Were you able to reschedule your appointment?” Matt called from over his shoulder.

_Shit._

Food? All it took was food to drive this shit from his mind.

_Nathaniel._

His mother would have grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out of here if he ever let -

_Shut up, shut up, shut up._

“I’ll be right back...”

Matt waved the spatula over his shoulder in acknowledgement and Neil limped as fast as he could back to his room. His phone showed no missed calls, but he sat on the bed and called Frankie again. Then again. There was no answer. Neil wanted to leave a message, but he knew better. ~~_Do you?_~~

_Leave no trace._

He’d have to get rid of this phone soon. He told Matt he was leaving today, but leaving where? His ankle had him locked, stuck. If he did try to leave, walking around the city would only make it worse. Where would he go anyway? He couldn’t run with a hurt ankle and sprained wrist.

_You could with a gunshot wound._

~~_But that was with her help._ ~~

No. He’d used most of his money for the papers and he didn’t have enough for another plane ticket. He had an ID, a social security card, and a birth certificate, but he couldn’t get out of the country with any of those things since he didn’t have a passport for Neil Josten because... _because._

_Idiot. Stupid. Complacent._

Because he left it in his apartment, on top of the coffee table, next to his empty mug and... _and._

_Comfortable, Nathaniel. You got comfortable, sloppy._

He inhaled a breath so deep he felt as though his lungs would burst.

 **_Stuck_ **.

No. He’d keep trying Frankie today. Tomorrow he’d figure out what he was going to do.

_Loophole._

Neil made his way back to the kitchen and back to his seat.

“All good?” Matt asked, sliding a few strips of bacon next to eggs on a plate.

Neil shook his head. “I can’t get a hold of my... appointment. Is there any way I could stay another night? I’m sorry to put you out, but I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

Matt looked offended and Neil was suddenly afraid he’d be kicked out.

“Bro. Of course you can stay another night, you don’t need to ask. I hit you with my _car_. It’s the least I can do. I have practice today, so make yourself comfortable, okay? There’s food in the fridge and every channel you ever wanted on the TV.”

Neil didn’t watch TV. He was bound to see something he didn’t want to see and the last thing he needed right now was another panic attack. He was doing a pretty damn good job of keeping it together at the moment.

~~_Funny._ ~~

“Thank you. I have a little bit of money, I can-”

“Stop,” Matt said. “I’m telling you, I’m happy to do it. This place is too big. It’s nice to have someone else here.”

_He’s too trusting. What if I were a killer?_ ~~_You are._  ~~ _How has he made it in the real world? Heart too warm, smile too big -_

_Mind your business_.

“Okay, well...tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair.” One way or another. Today he was going to rest his body and his mind.

_-_

_Housekeeping done. Speaking of Renee. I suppose it’s time to introduce my partner in crime, if you will. If you have been on our website, you likely know who Renee Walker is. Nonetheless._

_Renee: Hello everyone! I am so honored to have the opportunity to join Andrew in the search to find what happened to Mary and Nathaniel. For those who don’t know, my name is Renee Walker. I am an alumni here at The Foxhole Network. I received my Bachelors in Public Relations and afterwards, spent two years in the Peace Corp. I received my Masters in Journalism, much like Andrew, when I returned. I am also a columnist for South Carolina’s The State as well as TFN’s PR agent. For this case however, I am acting as Andrew’s Co-Producer. My job here is to help him research, sort through leads, and anything else that keeps us on track._

_Andrew: You will hear Renee over the course of this podcast. She will be my traveling companion and as Dan, our office manager and TFN’s Assistant Director, kindly referred to her as: the buffer between my brutal self and the general population._

_Speaking of, here’s what to expect out of us and the next few weeks. As I am sure many of you are aware, last week we posted my Audio Notes from our time in the field. These Notes will be posted bi-weekly, between episodes. We will be traveling a lot with this case and aside from sharing our findings on Twitter and on our Blog, these notes will keep you updated on current events._

_Which means, most of you know we visited Baltimore and the Wesnisnki home this past week._

_That’s where we’ll begin._

-

He tried Frankie all day with no success and grew more and more panicked. By **5:00** , he gave it up. Frankie was gone. Probably ran off with his money.

_Maybe._

The last time he called, the line was disconnected. It would be too risky to try and show up at the address. What if the feds caught wind of his backroom business and snuffed him out?

He tried not to lose it, tried not to crumble in the middle of Matt’s living room. With the floor to ceiling windows and the big screen TV and the pictures of an Exy Team where everyone was smiling and happy _and, and, and_. Could that have been him? If he hadn’t been born to his father? Could he have grown into a successful, happy, well adjusted adult?

 _Doubtful_.

Neil couldn’t even fathom it, to be honest. What he _could_ fathom, was the fact that he needed to destroy the phone.

So he did. Slowly and methodically. He took out the sim card, crushed it, then trashed it and the phone afterwards. There was another tucked to the bottom of his bag. He plugged it into a charger.

Frankie was gone. He was no longer an option. So, Neil needed a plan, a real plan, a start to this _loophole_ he had yet to find.

The first part, he decided, was listening to the stupid fucking podcast.

He’d been avoiding it, afraid of what he would hear. But there was no other choice.

_Knowledge is power, knowledge is safety, knowledge is security._

He needed to know what this person knew and what he planned to do.

_Be smart, Nathaniel._

Once the phone was sufficiently charged, Neil pulled his phone from the outlet and grabbed the earbuds he had forever ago stashed in a tangle in the front pocket of his backpack. Then, he would find the podcast. It wasn’t hard. The fucking thing was on the main fucking page.

 _Of course_.

Taking a deep breath, Neil tried to find a comfortable position as he sat  against the headboard of the bed and put the earbuds in. He pressed play.

And decided immediately that he hated this person...

This _Andrew Minyard._ Who obviously didn’t know how to let the past stay there.

But, he listened nonetheless, because he decided he _had_ to. He closed his eyes and unfortunately, that only made it easier to picture everything _Minyard_ said.

_On the night of June 12, 2004 Seattle PD arrested Nathan Wesninski, a resident of Baltimore, Maryland, with possession of illegal firearms._

Neil remembered. Because he was there. He listened to this man describe how Nathan was arrested, how other crimes were committed, how the police found a “ _murderer’s playroom”_ in the house Nathaniel had grown up in. The house he’d learned every exit to by the time he was five. The house he thought he would die in when he was six years old and hiding in his closet.

And then he listened to this man, this _Andrew fucking Minyard_ , say with as much conviction as that monotone voice could muster, that he refused to call Nathan ‘The Butcher’ - refused to give him the satisfaction. And although Neil still hated this person with the passion of a thousand burning suns, he was grateful for that, at least...that small acknowledgement.

So, he kept listening because he _had to_ and while he listened, he began to relax while Minyard talked about the documentary. He’d heard enough about it to know it was obviously inaccurate, that he and his mother were not directly mentioned...this was a somewhat safe topic - it had nothing to do with him.

Not until Minyard mentioned Seattle and the gun fight that almost killed him and his mother. Neil clenched his teeth, ground them together, and tried to steady his breathing. He could do this.

 _You can do this_.

_The real reason Nathan Wesninski was arrested in Seattle, Washington, on the night of June 12, 2004, was due to eyewitness accounts of a fire fight against what was described as a middle-aged woman and a teenage boy._

She was there...behind his closed eyes. _Too thin,_ he remembered always thinking, even when he was very small. She was always too thin when they were on the run - her hair in disarray and her eyes wide.

_Get down, Abram! Get into the backseat and stay there!_

He could smell that car. The gasoline and cigarettes from his mother's chain smoking - hands over his ears and eyes squeezed tight, listening to the sound of screaming and gunfire. His mother jumping back into the car and peeling out on the road - taking sharp turns, all with Nathaniel curled into a small ball in the floor of the back seat.

 _We got away_.

~~_That time._ ~~

_Nathan didn’t._

His mother cried when they heard Nathan had been arrested. And then, she told Nathaniel that this didn’t mean they were safe.

 _We do not stop. We keep going. Because anyone can find us, do you understand me Abram?! We_ **_do not_ ** _stop. We_ **_never_ ** _stop._ **_We keep going_ ** **.**

Nathan’s men were still out there and as long as they were, _they kept going_.

So they did. Which led to all of these apparent sightings. The podcast played interview after interview of people claiming to have spotted this infamous mother and son.

Maybe they were true. They were all places he and his mother had been. Neil had no idea how they’d been spotted so many times. If his mother knew, she never shared it. He was suddenly very grateful for her insistence, her diligence, even her heavy handed love.

 _She’d be so disappointed_.

He listened to the rest of the episode in a sort of trance. He heard the words, but they weren’t _really_ settling. He hadn’t heard the names _Mary_ and _Nathaniel_ used together so many times and they were starting to lose meaning.

Until the end.

_Oh. Mary and Nathaniel? If you happen to be listening, drop me a line. I’m always open to information - direct from the source._

That was it.

Monotoned Ass had some real fucking gall to call him and his mother out directly. He would like to call the fucker right now and tell him what he thought. If he’d ever considered the fact that _maybe_ they wanted to stay hidden - that what he was getting into was more than he’d be able to handle.

But he didn't.

Because although this whole thing was fucked - although he wanted to smash another phone and he was on the edge of a panic attack, _Andrew Minyard_ didn’t have shit on where he was _now_.

And that, at least, was a very little drop of comfort in his swelling sea of fear.

-

_\- Car -_

_[ Car rumbles. Rain patters against glass of a windshield, tin of the top ]_

_Renee: Wednesday, April 17, 2019. 2:36 PM - Baltimore, Maryland._

_[ Dark music plays softly in the background ]_

_\- Studio -_

_Andrew: The Wesninski house is located in a quiet suburban neighborhood on the edge of Baltimore City._

_The drive is quiet, winding, and wooded - so unlike the city center, where poverty and prosperity clash. No, this is different, like another world - somehow, a darker one._

_I drove us on the fastest route to the house. It just so happened to pass through the city’s infamous Leakin Park._

_To those that do not know, Leakin Park is just that, a park - complete with playgrounds, running trails, ponds, etc. It would probably be nice on a sunny day and if one did not know it’s dark history._

_Leakin Park is also a popular body dump site._

_One of the most famous cases to come out of Leakin Park, is the murder of Woodlawn High School Senior, Hae Min Lee, in 1999*. You can hear more of that case on a number of different podcasts, from people that know far more than I. The point of my bringing it up, is to get you to understand what kind of place this is. Hae Min Lee’s murder is one of many - her body is one of hundreds that have been found over decades in that park*._

_It’s the type of place that sends a chill down your spine, that makes you want to get away as fast as possible._

_To get to the Wesninski house, you have to follow straight through, which will then lead you to a smaller section of the park called Dead Run._

_Dead Run pockets the court where the house lies._

_Coincidence? Nathan’s morbid humor? The rush of hiding in plain sight? Questions we’ll likely never have answered._

_Questions I don’t care to have answered._

_Dead Run acts as a backdrop to Meadow Ct. It’s trees stretch over roofs and their leaves stand witness to all that has happened at property 8620._

_[ Rain patters harder. Tires roll into a driveway ]_

-

When Matt came home that evening, Neil didn’t know what to do. Should he beg for another night? Or should he just get his shit and risk it on the streets?

Matt decided for him.

“Hey! I’m so glad you’re still here. Listen, I don’t know what your situation is and it’s none of my business. But, I know you have nowhere to go, at least for the time being, and probably not much money. So, I have a proposition for you.” Matt crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter where Neil had been sitting and staring at his phone.

His ankle hurt too much to pace.

“A proposition?” Neil asked, eyebrow raised.

“We need someone at the stadium - an extra hand in janitorial. Clean up at night after practices and after games. Nothing fancy, but it pays. You’re welcome to stay here until you’re able to save up enough to leave.” Matt was grinning ear to ear - like he knew he had Neil.

 _No, Nathaniel_.

He did. How could Neil refuse? He had nowhere to go. He was just as safe here as he would be anywhere else - safer even. He needed money, he needed a place to blend in and hide. Here, Matt Boyd professional exy player, was offering him all of those things.

 _Don’t do it, Nathaniel_.

Slowly, grudgingly, Neil agreed.

-

_\- Studio -_

_White picket perfection._

_4655 sqft, 5 bedrooms, 6 baths, 4 car garage with another on the other side of the house - it was a family home. Completely made of brick, it had more windows than I would have expected to come from a murderer’s house. They were large, arched, and just as picturesque as the rest of this place._

_Maybe that was the trap - if there was one. The facade of the Wesninski home that tricked almost everyone._

_\- Car -_

_[ Andrew clears his throat. ]_

_Renee: Here, take this. Put it in your pocket._

_[ shuffling around. Audio becomes muffled ]_

_Andrew: Pretty sure this isn’t ethical._

_Renee: It’s not._

_[ Car door opens and closes for the first time ]_

_\- Studio -_

_Renee was already ahead of me. She was the one that landed this appointment. I’d been trying for the past week, but apparently I was too honest. Just when I was starting to give up, Renee had done it._

_She met the Realtor at the front door and she was just as fake as this place. Her smile was put on, her eyes were dead, she looked empty. To be honest, I couldn’t blame her. I would try to be empty too, if I had to show this house. The lies she must have to come up with, the stories to spin, to give this place a different history than the one it already has._

_\- Car -_

_[ Deep breath ]_

_[ Car door opens and closes ]_

_\- Studio -_

_The front door was white and large. It was framed by two columns that supported a white-trimmed blue roof. An American flag stood sadly on a podium to the right of the front door._

-

That was how the next night, he found himself at the stadium of the New York Lynxes. He had ridden the subway there, wearing a new jacket with a hood he’d bought earlier in the day with other necessary essentials, and feeling grateful for the mob of people that made up NYC. He went unnoticed, just as everyone else.

An older man with graying hair and frown lines met him at the side door Matt had led him to, and showed him the stadium where he’d be cleaning.

It wasn’t too bad. When it was just practices, he’d have to clean the locker room and lounge areas, make sure the court was free of balls for them to buff clean again, and do a general sweep to make sure nothing needed to be cleaned or emptied in the boxes. Easy work. Mindless work. The type of work that may leave him to his thoughts, if it were not inside an _exy_ stadium. Here, he could be blissfully distracted.

 _Maybe_.

But, right now, he was on the court. Right now, he stood in the center. Right now, he sank down - careful of his wrapped ankle, and sat on the logo.

Was _this_ what his future could have been...?

He used to play little league exy. Nathaniel was just a boy, but he was a backliner and the fastest player on the team. He used to _dream_ about this - when things were hard and his father was on a rampage. He still did when he allowed himself to retreat into the mind of a child who wished _this_ was all he had to worry about.

It stuck with him. All these years, the two decades that stretched between _then_ and _now_.

He looked up to the stands and imagined what it would be like filled with people. Fans screaming and pounding their feet and rooting for the team, for the game, for _him_.

 _Children dream, children play pretend Nathaniel. You are no longer a child_.

~~_But Neil Josten was still playing pretend._ ~~

He sighed, looked down at his ratty sneakers that he had yet to replace and put  a hand over his chest, over his heart, over his scars, over the life that would never allow him to live a dream like this.

Neil got up, he hung his head, and he limped off to the locker room to empty the bathroom trash.

-

_\- Front of House -_

_[The sound of Andrew’s boots hitting the pavement fill the air. It’s backdropped by rain dropping on fabric and stone ]_

_[ Audio becomes echoed. The voices of Renee and Shelly emerge ]_

_Renee: Thank you so much for showing us the house - especially in this weather. We really appreciate it._

_Realtor: Oh, the pleasure is mine! My name is *beep*, it’s so nice to meet you -_

_[ Realtor trails off. Rain Echoes. Something taps near the mic ]_

_Realtor: Anyway! I’m so glad you two are interested. It’s such a great home for a young couple._

_\- Studio -_

_Renee was good like that. Before we turned on the recorder, she let me know that she had told the realtor that we were a couple. If you knew us, that would be laughable and because of that, nothing I would have thought of. It’s why I need her. I’m told I’m too direct. She knows how to guide people past my less than personable personality._

_\- Entryway -_

_Andrew: I don’t fuck women._

_Renee: He’s a famous author, very eccentric. He’s looking for a home -_

_[ Voices fade ]_

_\- Studio -_

_We’d found the house on Zillow. It had been on the market for little more than a month and shockingly, no one had made a bid. The ad read that the price had been reduced for a quick sale and it was, I quote, a ‘fixer-upper’._

_That was one way to put it._

_Part of me still wonders why it’s on the market. For its size, its history, it is priced at $1.1 million. One would think after all the hype, all the mess that_ **_The Butcher_ ** _had created, someone would have bought it by now..._

_Anyway._

_According to Renee, it was previously owned by the bank. Which made sense._

_Though the front yard was well manicured, the grass neatly cut and hedges trimmed, the inside was a different story._

_\- Foyer -_

_Realtor: Okay!_

_[ Clap. Echo ]_

_Here, you can see the main foyer. It’s an excellent space for greeting guests._

_\- Studio -_

_Andrew: Their poor guests._

_Renee:{ Chastising } Andrew._

_Andrew: It was large, but not overwhelmingly so. It opened into the kitchen, livingroom, and dining area in an open arrangement. A large island faced the front door, the cabinets were old and dated with out-of-place looking appliances that must have been added to sell this place faster._

_It reeked of paint turned stale and something else._

_While Renee and the Realtor talked, I wandered._

_The floors were hardwood and shining in the grey light that poured in through the windows. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and reflected rainbow fragments around the large room. Those felt out of place too, wrong. Whimsical in a place where whimsy was forbidden._

_Briefly, I tried to imagine Nathaniel in this place. I closed my eyes and tried to envision a small, red headed boy walk down the oak stairs, eat at a dining room table, sit before the painted fireplace._

_And then I remembered, that likely never happened - because it was easy to forget, with all its shining chandeliers and pristine floors, that a man tortured and killed people right beneath its boards._

_\- Foyer -_

_Andrew: Bedrooms_

_Realtor: I’m sorry?_

_Andrew: I want to see the bedrooms._

_Realtor: Ah - okay, yes. Bedrooms! They’re upstairs, follow me!_

_-_

That sunday, Neil was stretching his ankle and testing how it felt when Matt came in the room holding his laptop.

“Yo, have you heard this podcast? It’s insane!” His eyes were glued on the laptop as he scrolled through something. Neil’s heart sank into his stomach.

_Not you, too._

“What podcast?” he asked quietly, not breathing as he waited for the answer.

“Red Rabbits -”

_Shit._

“It’s this journalist guy, Andrew Minyard, and he’s trying to find the son and wife of the Butcher of Baltimore. You know that story?”

 _Fuck_.

“Yeah. I know it.” He felt sick.

“Cool. So, he’s looking for the wife and kid and went to Baltimore, to the house where they lived-”

_No.._

“He posted the audio notes of the visit and yo, this shit is _wild_.”

_Where are his fucking boundaries -_

Yeah, he was definitely going to puke. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He made his way to his room and grabbed some clothes, and headed for the bathroom with his phone.

Leaning against the counter, he closed his eyes and breathed.

 _In and out_.

He imagined the nausea as a ball he could just push away. Swallowing hard, Neil started the shower and sat on the tub. Then, with shaking hands, he rolled his aching wrist and googled Red Rabbits, found the website, and had to breathe through the crawling sick in his throat at the sight of his very young face at the top of the page.

 _It’s okay_.

The audio notes were the first post on the page.

Above it was a picture - words written by a scared, six year old boy.

 **_don’t Be Bad_ ** **.**

~~_No it's not._ ~~

He lunged for the toilet and threw up, and threw up, and threw up.

-

_\- Studio -_

_At first, when I imagined that young boy, he was smiling. But as I walked up those stairs, looked down at it’s wood, I felt a sickness I still can't explain._

_No one had lived here since 2004, but the scratches were deep and disturbed. At the top of the landing there was a large, dark stain. When I looked up, above it was a sizable depressed into the wall._

_I try not to make assumptions. But that wasn’t juice staining the floor, nor do I believe that dent was made by rowdy children._

_Nonetheless._

-

 _Press play, Nathaniel. Be smart._ **_What does he know?_ **

Breathing heavy, gripping the seat, he spit into the toilet and pressed play before he could lose whatever nerve he had left.

 _You need to know what he knows. You need to be ahead of him_.

So, he wiped his mouth, slumped against the wall, and listened.

He listened to Minyard walk into the house he grew up in - the house filled with nightmares and demons. He listened to the realtor try and describe a house that was empty and cold - that had _always_ been empty and cold. Heard them walk into his old bedroom, heard the realtor ask what Minyard had taken a picture of.

-

_\- Second Floor -_

_Realtor: So here is one of the smaller rooms. There are three more down the hall and a master on the third floor._

_[ Heavy boots on old wood creaked beneath weight. Rain echoed on window panes ]_

_\- Studio -_

_I wondered if this could have been Nathaniel’s room. It was freshly painted in a muted shade of grey - light and easy on the eyes. The floors were better kept than those in the hall and there were two large, worn windows looking out to the backyard. There was a door across from the largest window._

_\- Second Floor -_

_[ Footsteps stop. A knob turns and door creaks open. Metal beaded chain snaps, light bulb powers on with a hum. Renee and Realtor talk in background ]_

-

He stopped the audio. He didn’t need to hear this - he _knew_ it. He _lived_ it. He walked down those fucking halls, listened to his tiny feet _tap, tap, tap_ against the same floor Andrew’s _thump, thump, thumped_.

He didn’t need to hear this -

 _Except you do_.

But he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

Because for a moment, for a very long moment - Neil was back in that closet, he was tucked in that corner crying - knees to his chest and hands in his hair _pulling, pulling, pulling_ . He remembered. He _remembered_.

He remembered his father raging about some deal gone wrong. Nathaniel didn’t understand who, or what, or why, but he understood the look on his mother’s face when his father backhanded her - when she looked at him, eyes wide and silently screaming for him to _GO, GO, GO NOW._

He went, because he was _scared._ He was halfway up the stairs when he lost his footing and slipped, banging his shin and crying out in pain.

_The same pain flared through his shin now._

The noise stopped from the living room and Nathaniel couldn’t breathe when he heard his father’s slow, heavy footsteps.

_The most terrifying sound in the world._

He tried to get up, tried to _run, run, run_ . But his father had grabbed him by the back of the collar and yanked him back down. He could still feel each stair dig into the notches of his spine, could feel his little heels bump on each plank. He couldn’t breathe, he scraped and scratched at his neck in an attempt to _breathe._

Nathan threw him to the ground and yelled in his face. Neil could remember the smell of his breath, the heat of it, the _fear_. He remembered squeezing his eyes shut and putting his hands over his ears and his mother's voice screaming in the background -

 _Familiar_.

He opened his eyes to find her yelling at Nathan and his father spinning around and descending on her.  

He ran. ~~_What a coward he had thought he’d been for years following._~~

He made it to his room and shut himself in the closet - in his safe space. There were markers and crayons and stuffed animals with heads sewn back on in there, because sometimes, he stayed a very long time.

As he sat in that corner, he could only remember thinking ‘ _Why does he hate me? Is it because I’m bad? If I wasn’t bad, maybe he would love me.’_

_~~How selfish.~~ _

He reached a small hand to a black marker and wrote on that wall as a reminder.

**_don’t Be Bad_ **

_-_

_\- Studio -_

_The closet was empty. I wondered if it could have been filled with kids clothes, toys, and games. Families that lived in homes like these always had so many things._

_There was no sign that life had ever existed here, but for a small scuff at the bottom of the closet. It was at the perfect height for a workers boot to kick - it was also the perfect height for a scared child to scribble._

_\- Second Floor -_

_[ muffled noise, disturbed microphone, click of a phone being unlocked and soft shutter of a picture being taken ]_

_\- Studio -_

_The closet had been painted, just as the rest of the house. The fumes hung in the air and no matter how shoddy the job was, what was written bled through._

**_don’t Be Bad_ **

_It was in marker, a child’s writing with both B’s capitalized._

_-_

But it never mattered how good he was, how quiet and nice and small he tried to make himself.

His father never loved him.

_~~Neil hated the part of himself that wished he did.~~ _

-

_\- The Foxhole Network Lounge -_

_Seth: Creepy as fuck._

_Andrew: Wise input._

_[ Shuffling sounds. Laptop drags across a table top ]_

_Seth: [ Whispered ] Fuck man..._

_Dan: If that was Nathaniel, how old was he? Most likely?_

_Renee: Five? Six?_

_Seth: It’s written in sharpie. The poor kid probably didn’t have actual markers._

_Andrew: How do you know it’s sharpie?_

_Seth: [ Tapping ] There. Sharpie bleeds through everything. You can put a hundred coats of paint on top and it will still bleed through. S’why painters don’t sketch in it._

_\- Second Floor -_

_Realtor: Oh, have you found something?_

_Andrew: No. Just wanted a reference for paint color._

_Realtor: The paint color... inside the closet?_

_Andrew: Yes. I want to see the master bedroom._

-

The next morning, Neil was resigned and angry.

Resigned to the fact that he had very little options. He’d tossed and turned, tried to think of any way out of this mess, before sleep finally took him.

Even if he had other contacts he could get in touch with, he had no money. He was more vulnerable out there with no money than he was here with Matt and a job.

_You’ve said that before Nathaniel. Stop trying to convince yourself. This is a mistake. Stop making mistakes._

He was angry. Angry because who the fuck did _Andrew Minyard_ think he was? Dragging up shit from Neil’s past that he was perfectly happy to never have to face again. This guy had no concept of a broken fucking home - of what it felt like to _hide_ and _hope_ and _hurry, hurry, hurry_ when someone was coming for him.

No, this _Andrew Minyard_ had no idea what he was fucking doing and Neil hated him for it.

That was it. Neil was done. He wasn’t going to listen anymore - not to the podcast, not to the audio notes. He was going to stay with Matt for as long as he had to, and he was going to work at the fucking stadium, and he was going to _get the fuck out_ as soon as humanly fucking possible.

Even if _Minyard_ managed to track him to New York, by then, Neil will have already been long gone.

_Nice lying to yourself._

~~_It wasn’t a lie_~~. Neil lived his life like the podcast never fucking existed. He did what he would do in any situation - he worked the days he was supposed to work, kept to himself, and only talked to Matt when Matt spoke to him first.

He was fixing the mistakes he’d made in Arizona. This time would be different, this time would be brief, _this time, this time, this time_.

-

_\- Master Bedroom -_

_Renee: I understand there’s a bonus room, under the garage? We’d like to see that. Andrew is looking for a space with an abundance of privacy for his writing._

_Realtor: Absolutely! It’s such a great space. It’s unfinished, so it’ll probably need some work. But! It’s got such great potential._

_\- Studio -_

_The money in realty must have been good on this side of the city, or the realtor had been doing this for a very long time._

_Because unfinished was surely one way to put it. But to show this room in good conscience -_

_[ Deep breath ]_

_The demons that lurked in the house above were plenty and I could feel them clinging to my skin. But down there, in the room Nathan Wesninski had made his own, was something else entirely._

_To call it a basement was kind. This was nothing of the sort. Upon descending the unfinished stairs, lights flickered to life to guide our way. The room that opened before us was large and dark with the white, clinical lights that glared from above. The floors completely made of tile could not even reflect them, for the grime of age and consequence was crusted to the surface. Spread evenly on the floors were large drains._

-

On Wednesday, Matt sat on the couch with his laptop open. Neil didn’t know what he was looking at, but he became curious when he heard Matt say, _‘damn’._

 _Weak_.

“What?” Neil asked, unable to help himself and hoping it wasn’t Red Rabbits involved.

It was.

“Have you looked at the team page for the _RR_ podcast?” Matt asked, not looking up at Neil.

_Ugh. RR._

“No, I don’t have a laptop. I... haven’t really been following it.”

_Not a lie._

“Oh-” Matt looked over towards him briefly and smiled that bright smile, “Hey, you can use mine anytime. I leave it here when I’m gone, you’re welcome to it. Anyway, look at this.” He turned the computer so Neil could see before Neil could make an excuse to leave.

It was a picture of a woman, dark skinned with long braids. She had a gold hoop in her nose and light brown eyes.

_So...?_

“Um, cool?” Neil tried. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing.

“She’s fucking hot, man! Damn. And a professional. Twenty-eight years old, educated. Dan Wilds...” Matt said to himself, describing her like he was listing MVP stats - but in the most sickeningly _dreamy_ way. “Think she’d reply if I dmed her?” Matt’s eyes were glued to the screen.

Neil almost said, _‘sure why not’_ when his brain function finally kicked back in and he realized what a very terrible idea that would be.

 _At least you can do one thing right_.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I don’t think you should really try to contact anyone from the podcast. Professional exy player? That might get around,” Neil said seriously.

It wasn’t a lie.

Mat sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right... Damn, she’s fine though. Don’t you think she’s fine?”

“Sure? I guess,” Neil shrugged.

“Oh, are you... not into girls?”

Neil gave him a confused look and Matt grinned that megawatt grin. “Hey, it’s no problem. I just won’t shove girls in your face anymore.”

_When the fuck did the conversation change?_

“No, it’s fine. I’m not...anything. I don’t swing.”

 _Change it again_.

“Word. No worries man, this is a judgement free zone.” Matt reached and ruffled Neil’s hair. Neil ducked out of the way.

“They posted audio of the part they cut from the podcast, by the way. Why Andrew started it and how he lost his job and shit. You wanna listen?”

_Get out._

“No, thanks. I’ll go pick up chinese for dinner or something...”

He fled the apartment as quickly as he could.

-

_\- Basement -_

_Realtor: Here we are. As you can see, it needs work - as I said. But, it’s very spacious and there’s even an entrance from the outside so you can get in and out without going through the main house!_

_\- Studio -_

_Renee distracted her, gathering the Realtor into some conversation to give me time to explore this dungeon, this morgue._

_When this room was found, authorities held a press conference. During, they mentioned tools were found - cleavers, knives, saws - and that some of them contained human DNA. They mentioned sterile metal tables and dark stains on the tile floors. They mentioned the term “murderer’s playroom”, and they were not exaggerating._

_There were hooks hanging from above, holes coating the walls and where there weren’t, there were cabinets built in. They were empty but for dust and dead vermin._

_Against one of the walls was a sink. It’s pipes and faucet were rusted, there were stains against the walls that dripped to the floor._

_To the right there was a short hallway that lead to a large metal door. It looked almost medieval, the way it stood. When I pressed my palm to the metal, I felt more than I thought I would._

_How many people must have tried to escape? How many people succeeded, but died before word could spread?_

_I was very quickly having enough of this place. You can find photos on our website. The few that I managed to take show you more than you can find on google - where the pictures do nothing to show what it is actually like. Those pictures are staged, editorial as if showing a movie set rather than a place that exists, a place where people were brutally tortured and killed. It is talked about as if a mother and son did not exist up those stairs. A son, that might have hid in a closet and reminded himself via writing on a wall,_ **_don’t Be Bad_ ** _._

-

Neil’s first time cleaning after a game was Saturday. He and Matt took the subway together so he could check in early with the Janitorial supervisor, and was able to catch most of the game since his cleaning duties wouldn’t start in earnest until the stadium was empty.

It was _incredible_.

He’d never been to a professional game. He’d caught them on TV sometimes if he was lucky, if he happened to walk into a diner when one was on. But never like this.

All those _dreams_ , they couldn’t even compare.

The New York Lynxes were a force - Matt was a force. The enthusiasm from the crowd was otherworldly. Neil soaked it in as much as he could. He watched the strikers run and pass and skillfully avoid the backliners - except Matt. Matt was almost always able to stop a striker from getting through to goal.

 _Amazing_.

~~_If only._ ~~

“Hey, Kid. Quit watching the game and get out here. Everyone’s about to leave and we need to scrub shit out of toilets so I can get home to my beer and TV.” Neil rolled his eyes.

Jerry, the janitorial supervisor and the same gray haired man that showed him around his first day, beckoned Neil to follow.

“We’ll do the top boxes last. The Moriyamas are here and they like to hang around, doing whatever it is rich business people do. Probably screwing us little people, am I right?”

Neil stopped walking.

_What?_

“Kid?” Jerry said, brow furrowed.

 _Breathe_.

 **_The Moriyamas_ **.

Nathan was once Kengo Moriyama’s right hand man and favorite executioner - according to what his mother had told him. How had he not thought about the fact that New York was Moriyama territory?

It shouldn’t matter, not really...there was no reason for them to recognize him and even if they did, would they care?

His father was in prison, Kengo was dead and his son had taken over. Were they even still in contact?

Neil didn’t know. He didn’t _care_. It wouldn’t make a difference - but he still wanted to stay as far away as possible.

 _Smart Nathaniel. Finally using your stupid fucking head_.

“Do the Moriyamas come to games often?” Neil asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Jerry shrugged. “Not every game. Just whenever they need to impress someone I guess. Why, you think you can impress them with your business prowess?”

 _Laugh_.

Neil forced a laugh. “Hah. Good one. You can take the VIP boxes tonight, Jerry. I know you like to filch the left over beer,” Neil said, trying to hold a smile. “I’ll take the bathrooms.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, kid. Filching beers? Me?” Jerry put a hand over his chest like he was wounded. “But, I won’t argue with you if you want to clean the shitters. Have fun!” Jerry waved over his shoulder as he made his way to the elevators leading to the VIP box. There was a separate janitorial closet up there with the fancy cleaner.

-

_[ Sounds of a car rumbling to life. Rain has stopped. Car door slams ]_

_Renee: Are you going to tell me?_

_[ Lighter ignites. Deep breath fills silence that stretches. Engine hums, gravel grinds and something tap tap taps ]_

_Andrew: Not yet. Let’s get coffee. We’ll trade observations and get dinner later._

_\- Studio -_

_I had her turn off the recorder._

_Half thoughts not yet formed raced through my head. And that’s bad, because thoughts are not solid. You cannot prove anything with just thoughts._

_I can make as many assumptions as I’d like. I can wonder if Nathaniel ever had a chance to play in the park, run through Leakin’s woods, hide in closets, or be subject to his father's cruelty. I can assume Mary was not a part of Nathan’s crimes - that she was just a beaten woman stuck in something she could not control. That she was young and stupid and scared, so she ran with her son to flee whatever monsters were ready to swallow them whole inside that house._

_You can have your theories and conspiracies - that Nathaniel is the new Butcher, running his father's empire in his stead._

_You can think whatever you’d like._

_We can think whatever we’d like, but I am a journalist and journalism is not the business of whatever shit I have ticking through my fucking head - whatever shit some sleuths on the internet theorize. Journalism is the business of truth._

_Then, I had no real truths._

_What I did have, what I do have, is a structure that stands with history embedded deep in it’s foundation._

_What I do have, is a photograph that shows far more than Nathan likely intended._

_What I do have, is evidence that Mary fled with Nathaniel far before 2004._

_Now, I just have to prove it._

-

As soon as the game was over, he made his way to the big yellow cart with the cleaner that smelled worse than the bathrooms. He pulled his hood over his head, rolled the cart towards the bathrooms, and crossed his fingers he wouldn’t run into any japanese crime lords today.

He didn’t.

 _Today_.

_-_

_I had more plans for Baltimore, but they all fell through._

_Paid a visit to the city courthouse, tried to get my hands on documents that I couldn’t before. I would be lying if I had any real expectations. Baltimore’s corruption, their standards, were known far and wide to be fucked._

_However, it stretches farther than that._

_I’m not doing this podcast for Nathan. I’m doing it for Nathaniel, I’m doing it for Mary. So someone explain to me why there are no public records of their existence, but a handful of missing persons reports that lead nowhere. Nothing after 2004 - no evidence that anyone bothered to look._

_Unless those documents are sealed, just like everything else?_

_It could be because they’re in witness protection. I guess I have to prove why I don’t believe that either._

-

Neil had Sunday off and he was sad to miss the money, but grateful for the reprieve.

His ankle was better - still stiff and occasionally ached at the end of a long day, but he was _fine_ and it was _fine_.

Matt was gone for some appearance or other and wouldn’t be back until late. Neil was bored and was tempted to go for the risky run through Central Park that he’d been planning to take since he’d started to stare at it from Matt’s obnoxiously large windows all day.

But, he didn’t have the guts.

 _Just yet_.

So, he settled on the treadmill. Matt had a whole gym in the apartment and if he couldn’t run outside, feel his feet pound the pavement - then this would have to do.

Running only lasted an hour. He attempted to watch TV, but that was overwhelming. He made himself a sandwich, he made his bed, he ran again.

~~_Don't do it._  
~~

He eyed Matt’s laptop on the table in the living room. He’d said Neil could use it anytime he wanted, didn’t he?

~~_Don't._ ~~

_Do. It’s the smart thing, Nathaniel._

Neil opened it and after running his fingers absently over the keys, he did the absolute worst thing he told himself he could possibly do. He googled Nathaniel Wesninski.

The TV had been overwhelming. That didn’t come close to what this was.

The results were insane. All talking about the Red Rabbits podcast and _Andrew Minyard_ . All the articles had titles like ‘ _Mary and Nathaniel: Alive and Running or Dead and Resting?’_ and _‘Nathaniel Wesninski: New Butcher?’_

His six year old face was plastered everywhere from that fucking family photo his father had insisted on to keep up appearances. His father’s tie was crinkled in it. The only sign of disorder in the entire photo.

 _He was good at that_.

It was because he’d just shaken Nathaniel within an inch of his life - told him to keep his mouth shut or pay the consequences. His mother had looked on, tight lipped, arms crossed over her stomach. She knew he wouldn’t hit Nathaniel, not right before a photo.

 _Dont_.

A bubble of panic made its way back up into Neil’s throat.

He’d known _Minyard_ was looking for him. For some reason, it escaped his mind that the entire country might be doing the same.

He threw the laptop back onto the table and stood to pace.

He ran his hands through his hair, rubbed his face, did a circuit around the couch five or six times.

It didn’t help.

_Do it. Be smart, Nathaniel._

He knew. He didn’t have a choice. He wanted to _ignore, ignore, ignore_ . He wanted it all to go _away_.

_It wont._

People were actively listening to this, looking for _him_.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to sit and pound on the floor like a child. He wanted his _closet -_

He wanted to find _Minyard_ first and show him what they would do to Neil if _they_ found _him_.

But he didn’t.

Because none of that would be helpful.

_You need to keep your head if you’re going to survive._

Neil went back to the couch.  He sat back down. He took another deep breath.

With clenched teeth and hands that he willed _over and over and over_ not to shake, he unlocked his phone.

Episode 2 of the podcast had been posted.

He steeled himself before he pressed **_play_ ** _._

_-_

_When we landed I received a text from Dan, telling me to return to the office as soon as possible. As much as I would have loved to make her wait, my cat was at the office and she’s spent far too long putting up with foxes._

_When I arrived, I was told that someone was waiting in my office._

_I guess this a good time to let you all know, over that week - since the first episode dropped, I had been receiving dozens of phone calls from a (786), Miami number. If anyone follows me on our social medias, you will have known about this harrassment. It wasn’t the only one, however. Our inbox on our website, our email, have been filled with tips, leads, conspiracies as mentioned earlier, etc. Some contact us more than once - but this person had my personal number and they would not stop._

_They went silent while we were in Baltimore. I assumed they finally gave up._

_There’s something about assumptions._

_When I opened my office door, there was a woman standing there. I knew who it was - just as I had known my caller._

_Allison Reynolds is a tall, blond, persistent trust fund baby. If that name sounds familiar, it is either because she owns A/R, a fashion label that’s gained popularity in the last five years; she’s an instagram influencer; or because her father is the CEO of Reynolds Inc._

_There she stood, pompous and invasive as ever, with claims I’ve yet to believe._

_Nonetheless._

_We need money. She’s offered to give it. I’m still considering that offer. So long as her claims pan out._

_Apparently she has a photograph from 2002, of Mary and Nathaniel in the background._

_We’ll see._

_Stay tuned for Episode 3._

_We’re going to Florida._

_I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_Keep searching._

_[ Outro ]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again! Kudos and comments appreciated and dont forget to check us out at [Red Rabbits Pod](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for pictures of evidence, including Andrew's photos of the [basement](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/184519520835/white-picket-perfection-photos-from-the) and the [zillow ad](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/184519798785/location-1-listen-here-basement-here-view). You can also find the recording of Andrew's [ redacted ] audio from episode 1: [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/184422539440/this-should-have-never-been-redacted-i-apologize).  
> Send any and all tips to either our Tumblr (linked above in A/N or our email at foxholenetwork@gmail.com! See you all next week and thank you again!  
> Keep Searching - R


	4. Audio Notes #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the creators!  
> Okay, better late than never! We hope the length of this bad boy will make up for our tardiness :( We're sorry!  
> We are still hoping to get Sunday's chapter out on time, but since we also have to write the podcast in addition to Neil's chapter, we'll see lol. Theres a LOT going on, so if we're late, we're sorry! You can keep up with RRP on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)! We usually post updates on there, so you'll know if something is late or not!  
> Speaking of keeping up, the comments we have been receiving are absolutely... out of this world. We know we haven't replied yet, but we think we've finally figured out a system! We've requested invites for Andrew and Renee, and now are just waiting on confirmation. We know we said we'd get to the comments last chapter, but we promise for sure this time. Especially since everyone is so... fucking amazing. We read and scream about everything! Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you!  
> That's it from us (for now).  
> -  
> A quick note for the chapter ahead.  
> 1: Much of this chapter is a summary of the past week. If you have been keeping up on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/), then you'll recognize some of this!  
> 2: We will be indicating where the recorder is turned on and off. If you are interacting with the world on [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod), or our other [social medias](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/directory), please keep in mind anything between [ record on / off ] is what you will be hearing during these 'notes'!  
> Everything else is just background for us as readers to see :)  
> 3: Keep up on our tumblr for pictures of evidence. We will be posting, and adding them to the chapter throughout the week!  
> 4: The official transcript for this chapter is also up. You can find it [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vtDsWVTD3lEiMGTYdkDJbEtio23Tnx2Wtdw0y9IPpVM/edit?usp=sharing). That may make what your characters know, much easier!  
> -  
> Enjoy!

“Get out.”

Andrew’s annoyance was bordering on anger. Allison Reynolds had been harassing him from afar for weeks and apparently, that was no longer good enough for her royal pain in Andrew’s ass. She looked at him now with a small smirk and it took the bee _buzzing_ in his ear for him to not throw a complete, god damned tantrum.

_Stop. Take a deep breath. Review, reflect, recharge._

King jumped down from the chair as soon as Andrew entered the room and made her way over to him. With his eyes still trained on the insolent blonde in his office, he picked King up and hugged her tight to his chest. She was his lifeline, his reason to keep himself from completely losing it.

“Nice cat, Minyard. She was good company. Didn’t leave my side the whole time I was here,” Allison said, looking at her nails and adjusting the glittering rings on her fingers. When she looked at him, her smile was all shining teeth and...silver grill.

 _Of fucking course_.

“That’s because you’re in her chair, you stalker. Get out.” Andrew made his way to his desk, clutching onto King’s fur and feeling the thrum of her purr against him. Once his back was to Reynolds, he didn’t look to her again. He was intent on ignoring her.

“Not until you talk to me. Why are you fighting this so hard? You need me, Minyard.”

“I don’t need anyone.” He felt King settle comfortably on his thighs, leaning her body against him and scratching her face on the armrest of his chair. “Dan!” He yelled through the open door. Allison scoffed behind him and Dan groaned from the other room.

“Yes?” Dan appeared with a tight jaw and a raised brow. He wasn’t so sure the attitude was directed solely at him. He could tell she didn’t like having Allison here anymore than he did. Unfortunately, she also had ‘ _reason’_ and _‘but Andrew-’_ , as if they _needed_ Allison’s resources.

~~_We do._ ~~

“Get her the fuck out of my office. Now.”

“Andrew, maybe if we just -”

“Out. Now.”

Dan sighed, rolled her eyes, and gestured to Allison. “Come on. Let him cool down and we’ll figure it out.”

Andrew could practically hear Allison’s hair flip over her shoulder. “Fine,” she replied. Her impressive heels clicked against the floor, flashing red with every step. She looked completely unbothered in her fur coat, blonde hair swinging. “But, I’m not leaving this studio until we talk,” she said, pausing at the door with her hand on the frame and eyes boring into him.

Andrew left his desk, slammed his office door behind her - into her, whatever - and locked it.

He’d been evading her for well over a week. She’d tried to contact him over one hundred times in a myriad of ways. He hadn’t answered a single one, so who in their right mind would decide to just show up? He obviously had no interest in what she had to say, so why waste all that money and time?

Andrew ignored the fact that it was completely something he would do before sitting back down. King, who he’d set on the desk when he’d gotten up, crawled back into his lap.

Powering on his desktop, he plugged in his harddrive and waited for it to load. He decided that he was going to stay where he was until everyone was gone. The thing was, he’d just gotten back from Baltimore - from having to bring himself back from memories of his own trauma after seeing the writing on the wall. He’d just gotten off a plane that he had been 85% sure he was going to die in and he hadn’t slept properly in days. He didn’t have the energy for this right now - he didn’t have the tolerance or the shits to give.

How Dan could have thought letting Reynolds into his office was a good idea, he would never be able to fathom.

So, he settled himself in to wait. He answered asks on the website while audio was converting for Seth and fed the masses because he was bored and enjoyed putting trolls in their place. He answered an ask about why he was in Florida, because he loved telling people they were wrong and then another about how King was doing, all with one hand typing and the other buried in her fur. It was going on 8pm at that point, with no end in sight to the sound of Reynold’s obnoxiously loud voice coming from the lounge.

When Allison started posting on the website, Andrew _almost_ lost it. Rather than take the bait he was sure she was giving him, he replied to one of her posts with a picture of a Maserati. She wanted to talk? Let her think this was his condition. Maybe _that_ would drive her away.

Two minutes after he posted, Reynolds and her stupidly loud voice shouted from the lounge, “Done, Monster!”

_Whatever you say, Spoiled Psycho._

Now that Andrew was nice and annoyed, he did the one thing he’d been promising everyone he was going to do anyway. He posted the unedited version of the transcript, complete with the introduction Dan took out.

He was still mad about it and he had no doubt that he would always feel that sinking feeling of betrayal because of it.

But right now, at this moment, there was no simmering heat in his veins. Only a dull satisfaction as he watched the number of hits climb and the questions roll in.

Trust was always something Andrew didn’t take lightly - both when it came to trusting others and others trusting him. Dan had put a crack in the foundation he had here. She had severed part of the painstaking trust he had been building - had been _promised_ would be upheld. He had been told that this was his chance to tell this story in his own words without someone trying to silence him and that, apparently, had been a lie. Part of Andrew wondered what else could have been lies, but decided not to dwell.  

So, this was his way of telling Dan, _good luck with that_.

_Good luck with trying to silence me, because the Boston Globe couldn't do it and neither can you._

Five minutes later, Dan was pounding on his door. Andrew would’ve laughed if the noise hadn’t startled King.

“I thought we were going to talk about this!” She yelled through the door.

“You talked. I didn’t listen. Is Reynolds gone yet?” Andrew called back, scrolling through the reblogs, seemingly unbothered. He could feel her glaring at him through the curtained window that looked out to the lounge.

Andrew ignored her tapping on the pane until Dan groaned and said, “No, she’s as stubborn as you are.” Then another few knocks until he could practically hear her eyes rolling in her head. “Fine. Rot in there for all I care.”

Andrew absolutely would before he gave Reynolds the satisfaction of talking to her.

-

A few hours passed and the reaction was exactly as expected. The post blew up and Andrew watched the outrage unfold, the criticisms light up their inbox.

The redacted introduction was not only important to the case, to lead people into what they were in for - but it gave them an understanding as to why he was doing this. Despite any and all legal issues that might arise from this, it was important for the audience to hear. So, Andrew basked in satisfaction as his office grew darker and darker.

Eventually, however, there was a soft knock at his door.

 _Renee_.

“Andrew? Allison is gone. Why don’t you come eat? We ordered food.”

Andrew stood with King in his arms to let her in. When she entered, he closed the door behind her and let King down so she could sit next to Renee on the big white chair.

Renee looked tired - she looked how he felt.

“Why are you still here?” he asked her, ejecting his hard drive and putting it in his bag.

“Waiting for you. Seth is gone, but Dan is still here. I think she was hoping we’d give her a run down of Baltimore.” Renee ran a hand down King’s head absently.

Andrew tongued at his lip ring and zipped his bag before he slung it over his shoulder. “Not tonight,” he decided. “I’m taking King home, she’s been here too long. We’ll talk in the morning. Did Reynolds go back to wherever she she came from?” Andrew knew she wouldn’t. _He_ most certainly wouldn’t.

“She’s at a hotel. I don’t think she’ll leave until she talks to you.” Renee paused and took a deep breath. Andrew knew what was coming and set her with a blank stare. Renee was not perturbed. “Andrew, maybe just hear her out. What if she has credible information?”

“Like what? Her and Nathaniel’s rich daddies arranged a marriage when they were kids? They were part of the same polo club?” He barreled on before she could stop him, “I need _real_ information. Why does she need to talk to me so bad? She could’ve told Dan, she could’ve told you, hell, she could have fucking told Seth. Why _me_?”

 _Buzz_.

Andrew rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and took a deep breath to steady himself. He was tired, he was hungry, he was annoyed. Renee, unsurprisingly, waited him out.  

“I don’t think that’s completely fair. You’re working off assumptions and assumptions-”

“Ugh,” he groaned, “Renee-”

_Buzz._

Renee pressed her lips together and nodded. She moved on, “She refuses to talk to anyone but you. I don’t know why, but it seems like you have that bullheadedness in common.” She let a smile mold to her lips and Andrew shook his head.

“I’m going home.” He motioned towards King, who jumped off the chair and climbed into his arms when he held them out for her. “I’m going to get some food, sleep, and try not to kill anyone. Maybe I’ll be more amenable tomorrow.”

-

Disappointment was something Andrew was familiar with. However, when he arrived at the office the next morning and saw Allison, he very nearly turned around to go back home.

Alas, he glared at her lounging on the couch in all her stupid glory and said, “You’re like herpes, aren’t you? Impossible to get rid of.” He kept walking to his office, King in his arms.

“You speaking from experience, Sweetheart?” Her voice was so fucking _annoying_ . It called after him, light and nauseating and god damnit he _hated Allison Reynolds_.

He let King drop to the floor and hop onto her cat tree before taking off his backpack and tossing it onto the white chair. When he looked up, King was perched regally on the top platform and staring down at him.

“She’s fucking annoying, huh?”

_Meow_

“You only say that because you like her fucking talons.”

King lifted a paw to lick at it. It was as good as a shrug.

Andrew reached up and scratched at her face with both of his hands. Her face was soft, she smelled sweet, and she tolerated him as he kissed her pink nose. “Whose side are you on anyway...?” He whispered while King rubbed her face on his chin.

A knock at the door made him sigh and drop his hands.

“What?” he called, not even a little aggravated.

_Buzz._

“It’s me,” Dan said through the door.

“Go away.”

“I have donuts.”

 _Fuck_.

Andrew paused for a beat of silence, scratched at the bee behind his ear and cocked his jaw. With a deep breath, he gave in and opened the door to find Dan standing there with a box of donuts in hand. Andrew made a grab for them, but she yanked them away at the last minute.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she tsked. “You have to come into the lounge. We still need to talk about Baltimore and it’s time to start planning what we’re going to record for next episode.”

Andrew ground his teeth and cracked his pinky before responding. “Fine. But Reynolds doesn’t sit in. She’s not part of the team.”

“My ass is staying right here, Monster! You can come or not, but I’ll be here and I’ll continue _being_ here until you decide to put on your big boy pants and talk. Don’t worry, I have time!” Reynolds yelled from the lounge. Seth was laughing somewhere in the background.

Bee wouldn’t fucking shut up, so Andrew had to close his eyes and count to five before responding, “Then no,” and moved to shut the door.

Dan blocked it with a foot, the bee _buzzed_ louder, and Andrew debated closing the door anyway, but that wouldn’t be very adult of him.

“Listen,” Dan started, “I’m the director of this fucking thing and if we don’t get it out, it’s on me. Get your ass out here and discuss the fucking podcast you’re supposedly so passionate about, or I swear to god Minyard, I’ll spit on every one of these donuts.”

Dan was already dangerously balancing the box on one hand. He glanced towards them and narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Fucking _try me_.”

At the back of his mind, there was a part of him that respected Dan’s balls. He could’ve said that. Instead, he huffed and conceded, “Fine. But I’m not talking to her.”

“Oh, you’re going to act like you’re five? Quit the temper tantrum and get out here.” She turned around, donut box tipping dangerously to the side as she made her way to the lounge. Her haphazard treatment of them was the only reason why Andrew followed, King at his heels.

Renee was seated on one of the bright orange couches. Across from her was the white couch where Allison sat, self-satisfied smile dancing on her ridiculously glossed-up lips, the grill on her teeth shining in the midmorning sun.

“Who the fuck are you showing off to?” he asked, motioning towards his own mouth.

“You. So every time I smile, you’re reminded that I have your salaries worth of diamonds on my teeth.” She winked at him and he couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough.

Sitting next to Renee, King jumped up after him and climbed his arm to perch herself on his shoulder.

“That cat has a monster on its ass. Someone call a vet ASAP,” Seth crowed, laughing at his own joke before it was even finished.

Allison pulled her lips back from her shining teeth and groaned at the same time Andrew said, “Seth, your intellect truly knows no bounds.”

He ignored the semi-appraising look Allison gave him and moved on, “Let’s get this over with.”

Dan clicked her tongue, looking between everyone before she nodded and said, “Okay. Baltimore.” She set her laptop on the table next to the donuts, already opened and pulled up to a page. Dan then removed a recorder from her hoodie pocket and put it in the middle.

[ Record On ]

“I’ll add the pictures we have to the drive,” Renee said, tapping away on her own computer in her lap. Andrew leaned back into the couch and scratched at King’s head as he glanced to the screen and saw the morbid pictures he’d taken start uploading.

Dan sat at the edge of her seat and scrolled through as the images appeared on her screen. “This is the house?” she asked, but didn’t look up for a reply. “Holy shit...” Allison watched with more interest than Andrew had expected.

Seth leaned over for a better look. “Damn. You’d think a fucking murdering psychopath would want something a little more under the radar.”

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know why Nathan did anything he did and to be honest, I don’t really care. The house was big and cold and has a _feeling_ about it.” He motioned towards the pictures on the screen with an errant hand, “We did find one thing. Keep going and you'll come up on a picture of a closet.”

Dan’s eyes widened, Allison’s lips tightened, Seth pulled his chin back - Andrew assumed they got to it.

Dan whispered, “Does that say...don’t be bad?”

“Yes.” Andrew responded.

“Creepy as fuck,” Seth said from his spot as he moved to hover over Dan’s shoulder.

Seth was usually wrong in everything else, but surprisingly - not with that, “Wise input.”

Seth flicked him off and slid the laptop closer to himself so he could squint at the screen. Under his breath, he murmured, “Fuck man.”

“If that was Nathaniel, how old was he? Most likely?” Dan asked.

“Five? Six?” Renee offered. Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Andrew glanced at Allison where she tapped anxiously at her knee. At the last moment, she lifted her eyes to stare back at him. He shoved a donut pointedly in his mouth and she looked away disgusted.

But it was interesting. Because in the time that Allison had been here - and even in the time that she hadn’t - she’d inserted herself in every single thing Andrew was trying to do. Now, she sat silent, observing as if from afar with that little anxious tick _ticking_ away.

Seth drew him from analyzing what exactly Allison was playing at as he declared, “It’s written in sharpie. The poor kid probably didn’t have actual markers.”

Andrew swallowed the piece of donut  and shot his eyes to Seth, “How do you know it’s sharpie?”

Seth tapped at the screen and turned it so Andrew could see better. “There. Sharpie bleeds through everything. You can put a hundred coats of paint on top and it will still bleed through.” Seth reached for a donut himself, “S’why painters don’t sketch in it.”

Andrew eyed him for a moment, then looked back to the screen. He couldn’t help but think - _Huh. Not totally useless._

“Either way,” Andrew continued, “It’s safe to assume Nathaniel wrote it. No one has lived in that house since Nathan’s arrest, and this was obviously done by a small child.”

Allison finally tilted the laptop closer to her, using the hand that had been _ticking_ to do so. She finally spoke, “That’s... really fucking sad.” She looked distressed and there was a bubble of laughter building in Andrew’s throat.

He swallowed it down and instead said with as much disdain as he could muster, “What did you think this was going to be?” He paused. The only reaction she gave him was a rise of one of her perfectly sculpted brows. “A happy family reunion?” he continued. “We’re looking for the wife and son of a mobster who used a secret basement to torture and murder people. We have no idea what they had to endure in that house.”

Allison cocked her jaw and said, “ _Obviously_ , you asshole. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to help. If you would just listen-”

“I don’t have to listen to anything. This is _my_ project. It doesn’t need you,” He replied calmly - which only seemed to irritate Allison more.

 _Good_.

“You _do_ need me, which you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Is that a threat, Reynolds?”

Allison smiled a serpentine smile, “No. I’m not that stupid.” _Well_ . “If you don’t need _me_ , then you most certainly need my money.”

“No. I don’t.” Andrew grabbed another donut and went to take an obnoxiously big bite.

“Um, we absolutely _do_ need her money,” Dan said, facing Andrew. “Let me break this down for you. You want to be able to say and do whatever the fuck you want on this podcast? Fine. But we can't afford to pay for travel expenses and research without sponsors. Sponsors aren’t going to take us on if they think you’re going to cause legal issues because of that missing brain-to-mouth-filter  condition you have. Not to mention, the legal issues themselves.” She gestured towards Wymack’s office in the back, “Abby has all but assured me we’ll be hearing from Edgar Allen Productions or the Boston Globe - or _both_ before this is over. A private donor is going to be the only way we get this done the way it needs to be done.”

“Yeah, Minyard. Lay off,” Seth eloquently said from his spot on the couch - chest all puffed out like an idiot.

“Shut up, Seth,” Andrew said, nodding his chin toward the blonde. “Just because you’re going to try and fuck her before the day is out, doesn’t mean your opinion matters here.”

Seth jumped out of his seat before Dan pulled him back down. Allison just smirked. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart? You want some of this, too? Is that why you keep trying to push me out?”

 _Buzz_.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, _Sweetheart_. Even if I held any affection for women in the slightest, I wouldn’t bother. A little too loud for my tastes. Sorry to disappoint.” Andrew threw his donut back into the box and after a second's hesitation, picked the entire thing up. He could feel King’s claws dig into his shoulder as he stood and she anchored herself onto him. “I need a break. We’ll reconvene after lunch.”

[ Record Off ]

Whether or not Allison gave him a look, or Dan rolled her eyes, or Renee gave him that familiar frown of disappointment, he didn’t know. Maybe Seth made a comment about the picture again, maybe Dan said something too. Andrew blocked them out as he headed back to his office because the fact of the matter was, Dan was right and he knew it. It was admitting to it that he had a hard time with. So, he locked his door, deposited King onto her cat tree, and sat in the white chair as he made his way through the remaining donuts while trying to figure out a _loophole_.

_There aren’t any._

He knew they couldn’t keep going like this and while Andrew didn’t want to deal with sponsors, he also didn’t want to deal with Allison. He hated people like her. So fucking privileged and obnoxious and -

And.

He didn’t want to think about it now. When the last donut was gone, he sat at his desk and went through the rest of his notes from Baltimore to start a script.

-

Saturday was spent compiling his finalized notes for Episode 2. They wouldn’t start recording until Monday, but tomorrow was Easter and he thought for one of the first times in his life, he should attempt to be proactive.

The productivity was worth it. Seth showed him how to layer the Audio Notes he and Renee had taken from Baltimore, over the studio audio recorded here. He wanted to add extra information about Leakin Park, the feel of the house, and the way he could picture tiny Nathaniel from the family photo running down the stairs in there as well, so he needed Renee to make sure his wording didn’t feel overly personal. He didn’t need Dan, but she was there anyway because she always was and unfortunately, Allison was an ever-present figure lingering in the background.

He ignored her completely.

“Are you ready to talk?” she asked that afternoon, cornering him on his way out of the sound booth after working with Seth for over an hour.

“Nope. Go away.” He flicked his fingers at her as Allison stepped out of the way.

“You’re going to talk to me!” She yelled after him, “One way or another!”

“Hey, baby. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.” Andrew heard Seth say from the booth. He could hear Allison’s ‘ _ugh’_ from his office door. They were definitely going to fuck before this was over, Andrew had called it.

He had things to do before tomorrow, so he grabbed his bag and let King climb onto his shoulder before making his way to the GS - not bothering to tell anyone he was leaving.

-

When Andrew pulled up to Bee’s house the next day, he was the last to arrive. Wymack and Abby were here like they always were, and by the look of the Ford next to Wymack and Abby’s truck, Kevin was too. Aaron and Katelyn had arrived last night with their daughter, Bella.

Aaron and Katelyn had moved to Chicago after graduating from PSU to go to med school. They were doing their residencies now, but three years ago everyone received a surprise in the form of little Bells. The couple wasn’t yet married and as far as Andrew knew, they were in no rush - much to Nicky’s disappointment (he wanted to plan the wedding).

Andrew never really saw the point to marriage. However, despite his general distaste of signing your life over to someone else, he couldn’t deny that the relationship between her and Aaron had brought everyone a bundle of actual light and joy. Bella had made the world that much brighter and Andrew wasn’t afraid to admit that she was one of his few saving graces.

When he parked, he sent Aaron a text.

_‘Help me get all of this shit out of my car’_

Getting out, he stepped onto the freshly trimmed front lawn and figured Wymack must have cut it when he got here. The air still smelled earthy and green and Andrew wrinkled his nose as his fingers twitched for a cigarette. Instead, he fought the impulse and looked up at the house that he could truly call _home_.

It was a modest house, with white siding and blue shutters. Two stories high, the front door was also blue and there was a pastel easter wreath hanging from it - one of Abby’s creations. They must have already hunted for eggs. Andrew couldn’t see any hiding in the well-loved flower beds or tucked in the large oak’s roots, and something inside him was sad he missed it.

 _Make Aaron send the footage later_.

With a steadying breath, trying to stifle down his addiction, loss, and nostalgia all at once, he let King out of the back then went around to the trunk. He heard Bee’s front door open and close. As the trunk popped, he watched his twin walk towards him, hands in his pockets.

Skipping formalities, he started handing his Easter goodies over to his brother once he was close enough. “Here.”

Aaron looked down at the large box in his hands, then back to Andrew. “You’re joking, right? I know you have a thing about being Fun Uncle Andrew, but a bouncy house?” Yes. “You went out and bought a _bouncy_ house? Didn’t you just get fired?” Aaron asked, shifting so he could get a better grip.

“It was on sale. I _had_ to get it.” Andrew grabbed the last of the bags and Bella’s Easter basket full of eggs, “And I don’t have a thing about being Fun Uncle Andrew. I _am_ Fun Uncle Andrew. FUA for short.” King was already prancing her way through the grass to go chew at whatever plants Bee had budding in the beds. Andrew called to her and she quickly came over with only one backwards glance. She meowed at his approach and he could hear Aaron scoff behind him as Andrew followed her swishing tail up the small white porch.

As soon as he opened the front door, he was hit in the face with _comfort_ and that newly warm, familiar feeling of _love_ that he still hadn’t been totally accustomed to. He fought with the impulse to pause in the threshold, take in the photos hanging on the walls; the well-loved stairs leading up to the four bedrooms and two bathrooms; and the living room where he had spent countless movie nights with Aaron, Nicky, and Bee.

An errant thought flitted through his head, reminding him that this year would mark a decade since Bee had taken guardianship over him and Aaron. Something warm and sticky built in his chest and dripped slow like honey through his veins.

He needed this right now. After Baltimore, after being reminded of nights spent in closets and heavy hands and wondering what that meant for a tiny Nathaniel, he needed _home_ and _familiarity_ and _family_. He needed to be in this place, where everyone knew him and tolerated his presence anyway. Bee, who would forever be his safe space; King who followed him through thick and thin; Bella, who loved him unconditionally - even Aaron was a comfort, just knowing and seeing that he was safe and thriving. Wymack and Abby were a sort of extended family at this point as well, acting as pseudo Aunt and Uncle.

Kevin was tolerable most of the time.

Aaron passed him to take the bouncy house to the backyard and Andrew stopped his reminiscing to make his way to the kitchen.  

It was small, but somehow could fit the entire _family_ at once. It was the room where he, Bee, and Aaron had stood around talking about their days while Bee made them dinner. Where they talked about college and Bee promised she could help them make it happen with scholarships and whatever else they could do (and did). It was where Andrew told Bee he was gay and Bee told Andrew she didn’t care what he was, as long as it included safe and happy.

He set his bags and Bella’s basket on the counter and was almost immediately folded into a hug. All it took was the quirk of the side of his lips for Bee to wrap her arms around him and Andrew didn’t just tolerate it, he welcomed it. He didn’t bury his face into her shoulder like Aaron did, or rest his chin atop her head (that he could not reach) like Nicky. Andrew hugged her warmly, with his cheek close to hers before pulling back. She held him at arm’s length to survey him, just as he did the same to her with his hands to himself.

She looked the same as always. Her honey skin was plump and lively and she had eyes as warm as the brownies he could smell baking in the oven - though they were sharp and focused too. She scrutinized him in a way that only Bee could and they both determined at the same time that they were both healthy and for lack of a better word, _okay_.

Bee’s eyes narrowed slowly though and she asked, ”Have you gotten more piercings since I last saw you?” Her eyes looking at his ears critically.

He didn’t bother to think it over in his head and instead shrugged a shoulder for the sake of being difficult. “Probably not, but maybe?” He’d gotten his tragus pierced since moving to Palmetto, but she didn’t _really_ need to know that.

“Well,” Bee patted the shoulder he’d shrugged, “I hope you had a professional do it this time.” She squeezed after her pat and let go.

“That was only _one time_.”

“Yes! One time! Sixteen years old and I walk by the bathroom to see a sewing needle sticking out of your ear!” Bee turned back around to stir whatever she had cooking on the stove. “Abby, do you remember? I called you to ask if I should take him to the ER?”

Abby Winfield, TFN lawyer, laughed from her spot leaning against the counter. Andrew hadn’t had a second to notice her and didn’t bother smiling because, well.

She crossed her arms and replied, “As if I would know. I’m a lawyer, not a nurse.” She gave Andrew a smile, “Hello, Andrew.”

“Abby,” Andrew nodded, “Where’s-”

“UNKIE ANDWEW!”

Tiny feet pattered their way from the living room and Andrew immediately assumed position. He squatted down low, held out his arms, and caught the little fireball as she jumped into them.

Bella was the only other human on this earth that he could tolerate such closeness from. Perhaps it was because she was a child, innocent and pure and perfect. She could never hurt him like others had, could never dream of such horrors, and he was thankful for that.

This time, unlike with Bee, he squeezed her tight and buried his face in her red, curly hair for just a second, before pulling back to look at her.

“Wait...” he said, feigning confusion, “Who are you? You can’t _possibly_ be Bells. You’re too big! My Bells is a baby!”

Bella giggled in that way of hers and Andrew’s heart seized.

When she was first born, he was terrified of her. Bee and himself flew to Chicago when they had gotten the call that it _was time_. Andrew initially intended on staying in the background, taking care of his brother’s dog and bringing his family food while they held vigil in the hospital. But then, Bells happened. Sweet and small, with her face all red but serene with the blondest wisps of hair atop her head. She was perfect, but he hadn’t even entertained the idea of holding her. What if he dropped her? What if he held too tight? What if he didn’t support her head properly or by proximity alone, his life ended up soiling her own?

Katelyn was the one that offered. Their history was tumultuous at best back then, mainly from college. But her eyes read _trust_ and they were _kind_ and his arms were out before he could convince himself to put them down.

Bella was _soft_ and _new_ . All swaddled, she fit into the crook of his arm. As he held her, he couldn’t help but think that he and Aaron were that little once. The same _softness_ and _newness_ and _sweetness_ . He had been like this when his ~~mother~~ decided she didn’t want him. Abandoned, shuffled, forgotten between foster homes over and over and over and he _hurt_. His chest ached so badly as he looked down at Bella’s sleeping, content little face, and he thought this child, this baby that shared his blood, would never have to go through any of that.

Ever.

When he looked up at Aaron and they locked eyes, he knew that he had been thinking the same. For the first time, perhaps in their entire existence, they were in perfect understanding.

_We’d die before we let something happen to this baby._

“Unkie Andwew! I Bells!” Bella laughed. She gave Andrew another hug as he lifted her off the ground and placed her on the counter. As he did, she took his glasses off his face and put them on her own. The wide circle lenses made her _hazel_ eyes look huge and he laughed despite himself as he pulled back to take a picture.

That was another thing. A few years ago, he had no pictures in his phone but things necessary for investigations. Now? King and Bella dominated over half. When the fuck had he turned into _that guy_?

“There you are,” he said and gave her a look. “I almost didn’t recognize you, you’re getting so big!” He slid his phone back into his pocket and plucked his glasses off her face. He could feel Bee and Abby watching him but dutifully ignored them as he held his arms out in question. When she mirrored him, he picked her up again to put her on his hip. “Do you want to see what I brought you?”

When she gasped and put her little hands over her mouth in a form of yes, he showed her the Easter basket. It was a giant see through egg made to look like a unicorn with her name on the front. It was filled with plastic eggs with chocolate and cash in them - because he was _Fun Uncle Andrew_ and if Bella ended up liking him more than Aaron then, well...that was okay with him.

“And!” He said, really laying on the theatrics as he turned towards the back door, “I have something else outside for you,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you want to see?”

“Yes! Yes, now please!”

Andrew did not flinch. Measured and calm, cool and collected, he just smiled and nodded with finality.

 _Please_ was still something he had a hard time with, now and then. It was a word that had more weight than most and it sat heavily in his stomach. Bella used it to be polite, because her parents were really laying the manners on heavy. She meant no harm, of course, which meant now - after years of therapy, he could accept it from certain situations.

i.e. Bella.

“Hey!” Bee called from the stove, “What are you two whispering about over there? No secrets!”

“Momma Bee!” Bella said excitedly, clutching Andrew’s shoulders, “Unkie Andwew have a prize!”

That little lisp - he hoped it never went away.

Bee let out a gasp and walked over to pat Bella’s cheek. “Well. I most certainly can’t keep you from a _prize_. Shoo!” She waved and gave Andrew a wink, “Go find out what it is and then come back to tell me and Auntie Abby, okay?”

“Kay!” Bella wiggled her way out of Andrew’s arms and after offering her hand, he took it to let her tug him to the sliding door. It was already open and Andrew could hear Aaron and Kevin talking outside.  
  
“Daddy!” Bella let go of Andrew’s hand and ran down the few steps, across the porch, and into the grass to bound into Aaron’s legs. Before she could make contact, Aaron scooped her up with practiced ease and showed her the box with the picture on the front. Andrew watched as she squealed with delight and demanded it to be set up immediately.

Aaron laughed and tickled her belly. “Soon, baby. You have to be patient, okay?” She wiggled in his arms and Aaron bounced her on his hip as if she were still a baby.

_She is_

“What do you say to Uncle Andrew?”

Bella threw her head over her shoulder with the brightest, fully baby-toothed smile she could muster, “Thank you!”

He _will not_ be sad when she starts losing those baby teeth.

Andrew stopped between Kevin and Aaron and poked Bella’s little nose as a ‘you’re welcome’. She giggled, then wiggled in Aarons arms to be put down.

When Aaron obliged, he asked, “Can you go in the house and tell mommy Uncle Andrew is here?” Bella gave him a nod far firmer than any three year old had a right to give and ran back to the house.

From Andrew’s spot next to Kevin, he heard her yell, “MOMMY!” from inside.

He _did not_ smile to himself.

“Really?” Kevin asked. “A bouncy house?”

“It was on _sale_ ,” Aaron said mockingly. “You spoil her, you know. Katelyn’s going to shit when she sees this thing.”

“Shit at how amazing it is? How I am the best uncle for her daughter that she could have ever asked for? Yeah, I figured,” Andrew shrugged. “You probably make her eat vegetables and go to bed on time. Let her live a little, Aaron.”

Kevin sighed exasperatedly beside him, “Of _course_ he makes her eat vegetables. You know, I keep telling you. You’re going to get an iron deficiency if you don’t start eating more greens. I don’t even know how you stay so fit?” Kevin surveyed him. Andrew just raised a brow. “Do you work out just to ward off the obesity waiting to creep up on you?”

Andrew gave him a hard stare and waited for him to stop.

Kevin was something of an enigma to Andrew. The famous “Son of Exy” came to PSU Andrew’s freshman year, after his “brother”, Riko Moriyama, broke his hand with an exy racquet. The media, Edgar Allen, Kevin, they all tried to play it off as a skiing accident, but Andrew wasn’t a fucking idiot. Eventually, he managed to get the real story out of Kevin and it was worse than he initially thought. Kevin had come to PSU to join Wymack and the communications department under his tutelage once it was confirmed that his career was over. Andrew never fully understood _why_ he chose _PSU_ of all places, or why he went straight to Wymack, until it came out not even a year later that Wymack was Kevin’s father. Everything started to make sense then. Kevin had nowhere else to go - no family, no friends. His life had been the Nest and the Nest did what it does best.

Destroy.  

That’s how Kevin came to be a part of Andrew’s small family and subsequently, to have his own exy podcast. With the support of Wymack and Abby, he was able to piece himself back together and get his shit under control. _Dayly Exy with Kevin Day_ had been a staple at TFN since Kevin’s graduation.

As far as Andrew knew, Kevin hadn’t heard from the Moriyama’s since he left the Nest. As long as he wasn’t playing exy, it seemed as though they were no longer interested.

~~_Believable_ ~~

Kevin realized Andrew was still staring at him. “What?” He asked, pulling back his chin.

“Are you going to stand there yapping about shit I don’t care about or are you going to help me put up this bouncy house?”

Kevin rolled his eyes, but set down his drink and made for the box.

-

“This is your contribution to dinner?” Wymack asked him, gesturing to the array of ice cream sundae toppings on the counter.

“I brought dessert. You’re welcome. Ungrateful.” Andrew shook his head and stole a piece of cheese from over Bee’s shoulder where she was grating it.

She shot him a playful glare and waved the grater, “Out! Go play with Bella. I’m sure she hasn’t been spoiled rotten in the last five minutes.”

With an argument so compelling, he found Bella at her small table in the living room, coloring. Wymack joined Kevin to watch ~~of course~~ an exy game. Andrew had no idea where Aaron and Katelyn were, but if they were smart, they were taking advantage of a few moments where there were five other adults in the house to keep an eye on their kid.

King was on Bella, her back paws on the floor and her front paws on Bella’s lap so she was standing. Bella had one chubby arm wrapped around King’s middle while she colored with her other hand.

“Whatcha doin’, Bells?” he asked, lowering himself to sit beside her.

“I’m drawin’ a pichure of the famlee,” She said matter of factly. Andrew pursed his lips and looked over her shoulder. He could tell which one he was, only by the glasses. He was also very pleased to find that she’d drawn him taller than Aaron. Of course, that was wholly accurate.

“Wow...” he said quietly, and pointed his finger on the table, right next to the paper so he didn’t disturb her _meticulous_ process. “You are such a good artist,” he praised. “Can I have it when you’re done?”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t bother to look up. Her little tongue stuck out from the corner of her lips, “It’s for you. I can have chocolate?” She asked with the confidence of an adult. It read _I know you will anyway._  She didn’t even have to give him wide hazel eyes or a little pout. No, she knew the power she had and she was right.

“You absolutely can.”

From his pocket, Andrew pulled out his _Emergency M &M’s _ which he always had stashed away just in case, and took out two for Bella and a handful for himself. Bella tapped the table for him to put them down, then ate them one at a time as she continued drawing.

Just then, Wymack and Kevin both yelled in dismay in unison.

Andrew looked up to see them still glued to the screen. Both were leaning forward on the couch, elbows on their knees and hands over their mouths. He had no idea how it took Wymack so long to realize Kevin was related to him.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

Abby walked into the room, all lawyer with her hands on her hips.

“What are you two doing?” she asked, “It’s Easter! This is family time!”

Kevin motioned towards the screen, “This _is_ family time. We are both sitting and watching _together_.”

 _Solid logic._ Andrew had to admire the effort.

Abby leveled him with an _oh really?_ Look.

Wymack sighed and stood. He popped Kevin on the back of the head on his way.

“Ow!” Kevin yelped, rubbing his head, “What was that for?!”

“It’s _family time_ , son! Turn the game off!” Wymack winked at Abby when kevin wasn’t looking.

Kevin rolled his neck and waved at the game, “But this is for work! This is an important game!” Kevin was indignant, his gestures grew wider.

Wymack shook his head in mock shame. “ _Minyard_ isn’t even working today!”

Andrew feigned confusion at the sound of his name and said with a mouth full of chocolate, “What?”

Bella giggled and Andrew gave her a chocolatey grin. She only laughed louder.  

“Matt Boyd is about to break a record here! This is history in the making!” Kevin guffawed and opened his mouth to continue explaining.

“No one cares about Matt Lloyd, Kevin,” Andrew picked out a crayon and new piece of paper for himself to draw a picture of him and Bella. “Watch the highlights tomorrow.”

“Matt BOYD,” Kevin said.

“Who?” Andrew couldn’t help it. Kevin did this to himself.

Despite all the teasing, Andrew didn’t hate Kevin. His passion was easy to pick on, but he was a good man with a good heart. While cowardly and annoying at times, there was a rocky understanding between the two men that grew from their time in college.

Kevin threw up his hands in frustration, “Fine!”

“Good man,” Wymack said, clapping him on the back. Kevin grumbled and followed him into the kitchen where Andrew could hear Abby and Bee laughing about something.  He turned back to his picture and started coloring in Bella’s red hair.

“That for me?” She asked, looking at Andrew’s picture.

“Do you want it?” Bella nodded. “Then it’s yours Bells.”

She smiled the sweetest smile at Andrew then and Andrew couldn’t help but send one her way, too. He was growing soft with age.

Or perhaps mentally, he was just getting _better_. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Bee called dinner from the other room and Andrew held his hand out for Bella’s.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asked, because he always did. Whether it was just in an offer for her to decide for herself or something verbal, he always gave her the option. That was something he hadn’t been given growing up. He wanted her to know that her body belonged to her and her alone.

Bella nodded and she and Andrew made their way into the dining room together. He helped her into her booster seat before sitting in his own chair. Katelyn walked behind him and gave him a short pat on the shoulder once he acknowledged her presence, before taking her seat next to Bella, who was stationed between her parents.

Everyone immediately started serving themselves - no prayer or fanfare. Easter was strictly a food and chocolate kind of holiday in this house.

“So, Andrew,” Bee said from her place across from him. “Tell us about your podcast! I haven’t spoken with you since you got back from Baltimore.”

This was something else he had been getting better at. Filler conversation.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, scooping potatoes onto his plate. “Didn’t find much in Baltimore. Putting together that episode now.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Wymack said from the other end of the table. “Red Rabbits is already top of the charts in the US and UK. I’ve seen what he has for the second episode and it’s just going to get bigger from here. He’s done a good job - the whole team has.  Don’t let him do that humble ‘it’s-the-story-not-me’ shit he likes to do.”

“It _is_ the story,” Andrew said through a mouthful of ham. “You think the people would give a shit about what I have to say if it wasn’t interesting?”

Bee rolled her eyes with that little smirk on her lips as she nodded, “Yes, well. I’m sure you’ve brought your special brand of Andrew to the table for the listeners.” Bee turned her attention to Kevin, “How’s the exy podcast going?”

“Fantastic,” Kevin said, only the slightest hint of bitterness. Andrew had knocked _Dayly Exy_ down from the number one spot at TFN and Kevin was being so... _Kevin_ about it. It probably had something to do with being _second best_. Honestly, as much as Andrew didn’t like to admit it - he couldn’t blame him.

Completely.

At least the 2 that had been inked into the skin beneath his left eye was gone - all that was left nearly faded, but for the remnants of something that _used to be_.

“I’m trying to get in touch with Matt Boyd’s people to see about getting an interview with him. I’m positive he’s broken the record for most blocked attempts by a backliner by now.”

And so it went. They heard about Aaron and Katelyn’s residencies and how exhausted they were. They heard about Abby trying to preemptively research legal basis for sharing information that exempts it from being slander.

 _No idea who that could be for_.

And they heard about how Bella had a friend named Lucy in her preschool class and how they always play Dora on the playground. Bella’s story, naturally, was his favorite, because she said Lucy like ‘ _Yucy’_ and come the fuck on - of _course_ it was.

Once dinner was finished, the only sensible course of action was the bouncy house. So, between he and kevin, they completed getting it set up in the open patch of grass of Bee’s backyard. He then retrieved Bella and covered her eyes as he carried her out to see it. Katelyn was grinning with her phone out and when Andrew took his hand away, Bella’s reaction trumped every other in her very small lifetime.

Hands clapping, voice squealing, she gave him one quick hug before _demanding_ to be put down. Immediately, she ran to get in, but Aaron made her stop to take off her shoes before helping her up.

Andrew watched as the bouncy house started moving erratically and smiled ~~yet again~~ at the sight of Bella trying to so hard to jump as high as she could - pink tutu bouncing around her and red curls an absolute tangle in the air.

Katelyn came to stand beside him, watching on with her arms crossed and smile wide, “You’re good with her, you know,” she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. “She loves you.”

“I love her, too.” And the answer was automatic, natural, real, _true_. Everyone knew it anyway. It was nothing he could hide or would ever dare to try. Something about Bella made him feel okay with being emotionally open. He didn’t know if his subconscious was trying to set an example for her, or if it was the fact that she didn't know or care about any of the fucked up things that had been done to him - and that he’d done himself. There was no judgement from Bella. Only love.

“Have you thought about it?” Katelyn started and Andrew turned his head to look at her in confusion. “Having kids?” She clarified but that made it no better, not really.

Andrew scoffed, “Sure, I’ve thought about never having them. Come on, Katelyn. You know better. I’m not fit to be anyone’s father.” The idea was so absurd, he couldn’t even begin to picture it.

With his lifestyle? His job? It was risky, it was dangerous. No.

“Not even Bella’s?” Aaron asked, walking over to join the conversation.

Was he being ambushed?

“Especially not Bella’s. She deserves a hell of a lot better than me.”

Aaron cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. He looked at Katelyn, who gave him a small nod, and Andrew fought back a groan of whatever the fuck they were planning.

Andrew was good at reading people, reading between the lines, but by fuck he was blindsided by this one -

“So, we wanted to ask you. We’re doctors so we’re always thinking about this shit, I guess.” _What?_ “But, we’re putting together our will. If anything happens to the both of us, we’re going to give guardianship to Bee.” _What, what, what?_ “But, our lawyer suggested having a backup, just in case. So, we were wondering if you would be our backup?”

Andrew was suddenly very panicked.

_Buzz._

He lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to the bee behind his ear and asked, “What about Katelyn’s parents? Or Nicky and Erik?” He knew she didn’t have any siblings, but her parents seemed like the normal upper-middle class happy family he used to dream about adopting him.

~~_Before he figured out dreams were useless._ ~~

Katelyn shook her head. “They’ll always be a part of Bella’s life, but they’re retiring soon and want to move to the Keys. They were never the most involved or attentive parents, and I don’t think retirement and a child would suit them. Nicky and Erik don’t know her as well as you do, and we wouldn’t want her to have to leave the place she’s familiar with or expect Nicky and Erik to move again. Also,” She paused for a minute, looking over him as a tentative smile danced again on her lips, “She loves you...so much. And we know more than anyone, even more than my parents, you would protect her and make sure she’s safe better than anyone.”

 _What the fuck_.

Andrew looked from Katelyn to Aaron. He stared stoically back, completely blank because his brain was short circuiting and this kind of emotional input was going to be too much, real fast. He pressed harder into the bee.

“UNKIE ANDWEW! COME JUMP!”

Andrew swallowed hard and was knocked completely out of his own head by Bella’s little head poking out of the doors of the bouncy house.

Impulsively, he called back, “Okay!” then looked to Aaron. The same word that left his lips was more sure, more serious, more firm and honest _and and and,_ “Okay.”

-

Andrew woke up Monday morning feeling more hopeful than he had in weeks. His head had been so stuck on the writing on the wall in the closet, that he hadn’t really let himself remember what his purpose was. Bella reminded him. Not because of her red hair and tiny-big smiles. But because she gave him a strength he couldn’t really explain. A purpose that drove him to doing this in the first place.

To help. To get justice for Mary and Nathaniel.

When Renee had tried to remind him, he rebuffed her because he didn’t want to hear it. At the time, all he knew was that there was another person, someone his age, who had gone through childhood trauma - maybe worse than what he had endured. The fact of the matter was, he had no idea. But, if he played his cards right and if he really got to the bottom of this, he’d be able to help.

That’s all he wanted. To _help_.

How strange...

So, he got up. He worked out. He showered. He dressed. He ate breakfast. He went to work with the words _keep searching_ echoing in his head.

When he pulled up to the studio, it was to find Reynolds leaning against the hood of a black car in a short leather skirt and steel toed heels (which, Andrew secretly loved, but would never admit to _her_ ). She swung a set of car keys around her finger and Andrew rolled his eyes. Come to flaunt her wealth, he supposed.

As he got King and himself out of the car, he was determined to ignore her until she threw the keys his way. Andrew caught them on reflex with all the skill of a goalie protecting his precious GS behind him. King jumped out of his arms at being rustled, but stuck close to his legs as he shut the door in annoyance and locked it.

“You resorting to throwing things at me now?” He asked, brow raised. “Wow, Reynolds. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more obnoxious.”

With confidence only _Allison fucking Reynolds_ could muster, she smirked and said, “They’re yours, Monster.” She walked towards him and flipped her long, blonde hair behind her. Andrew looked down at the key fob marked with a trident in his hand, before looking back up at the car.

 _No she fucking didn’t_.

His eyes went wide involuntarily.

It was the Maserati he posted on the website. The black GranTurismo Sport he’d been drooling over since he saw it in a showcase on his way down to Palmetto. He jokingly posted it to the website in a response to a question, just to fuck with her. He didn’t expect her to actually - No.

“Is this a fucking joke?” he asked, angry that she would bring this beautiful specimen of a car all the way here just to torture him.

_Because that’s all this could be. A big fucking joke._

“No joke. You want a Maserati before you listen to me? Here’s a Maserati. It’s paid in full, non-refundable.” She glanced back at it and waved her hand as if it were nothing. “I have six other cars. What do I need this for?” She put that hand on her hip and stared down at Andrew, head cocked to the side.

“So, what’ll it be, Sweetheart? Still want to send me packing? Or, do you want to drive this Maserati out of here today and add me to the team?”

_This is bribery. You can’t accept. There’s a code about this shit. Ethics._

Andrew looked back to the car. “I was joking...” he said weakly because...

_This is unethical... V8 engine... 186mph... 454hp...._

“Well, I wasn’t. What’s your answer?”

Andrew squeezed the keyfob in his hand. He ground his teeth together and gave her the most venomous glare he could muster. “Fine. _Fine._ Get everyone in the lounge and we’ll talk.” He bent and picked up King.

Allison’s light brown eyes sparkled just as much as the stupid fucking grill shining on her teeth, “Going to drive it?”

“Yes.”

-

Great mood made better. Even the listeners submitting asks to the website noticed. Andrew really couldn’t help himself. That drive had been the best of his life - he’d never let the GS know -. It was smooth and exhilarating and mother fucking hell, the Maserati drove like a fucking dream. It was like everything was culminating to make today better and better and even the sprinkle he’d found in his ear that morning from sharing a sundae with Bella hadn’t even dampened it.

When he entered the office, King was chewing at one of the catnip plants he’d placed strategically around the office and he had to smirk.

Rather than go straight to the lounge where everyone was waiting, he went to his office and gathered together his notes and plan of action before joining them. King was bouncing somewhere around with loud yowls of excitement. Dan’s eyes were anxiously looking over Andrew’s shoulder to try and see her as he settled onto the couch unbothered. He set the recorder in the middle of the table like a few days ago and pressed the button.

[ Record On ]

He gestured towards Allison “Talk.”

Allison raised a single brow, but took a deep breath to settle the anxiety he could see swimming in her eyes. Andrew wanted to laugh at her. After all this time of harassing him and insisting she was important, _now_ she was suddenly unsure?

“I saw Nathaniel and Mary,” she started. Everyone opened their mouths to talk at once, but Andrew beat them too it.

“Where and when,” he demanded and opened his moleskin to jot it down.

“In the Keys, 2002. My family has a vacation home in Islamorada. I have a picture with them in the background.”

_Picture._

“Show me,” He could hear his voice in his ears, hard and stern.

“I don’t have it _with_ me,” Allison shot back, as if this should’ve been obvious. It wasn’t. “It’s at the vacation house, in a box with some pictures. But, it’s them.”

“Okay,” Dan said, skeptical. “So-”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve been harassing me for weeks and you didn’t think to actually _bring_ the picture with you?” Andrew cut Dan off. But Dan pushed on as Allison scoffed and opened her own mouth to respond.

“ _So_ , say this is true-”

Allison was the one to cut her off this time, “It _is_ true, _sis_. I expected you to be the reasonable one.”

“I’m reasonable,” Seth interjected, wagging a brow. Allison pointedly ignored him.

Dan rolled her eyes, “Fine. It’s true. Why would this one sighting make you want to come all this way and demand to be listened to - _without_ the actual picture?”

Andrew tapped his pen on the paper and Allison tried to refute, but Dan cut her off.

“Why would you want to fund this entire podcast, based off one thing that happened when you were a kid?” Dan finished.

“Why would you buy me a Maserati? Not that I’m complaining,” Andrew _helpfully_ added.

“Excuse me?!” Dan exclaimed, ignoring the gasps and shouts of Renee and Seth. “You bought him a fucking Maserati?!”

“Sure did,” Allison leaned back in her seat.

Renee turned towards Andrew, “Andrew, that’s not ethical. It goes against -”

Allison continued and Andrew dutifully ignored the facts he already knew, “And now look. We’re all here, actually talking about this shit instead of everyone but Seth trying to pretend I’m not here.”

“I got you, Queen,” Seth said, getting up to sit next to her. She looked over at him with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Ugh,” She _flipped_ her hair in his direction. “I hate a man who thinks they need to tell me what I already know. How _boring_.”

Questions aside, Andrew’s mood stayed elevated just by the look on Seth’s face.

“Look,” Allison said, turning back to the group. “I’ve been telling people this for years and they either don’t believe me or don’t give a shit. I know what I fucking saw. That kid looked miserable and the lady looked fucking insane. I want to be able to prove it.”

Andrew fidgeted with his lip ring momentarily, studying her with a narrow of his eyes. “So you’re doing this for vindication? So that everyone knows you’re not crazy.”

“On the nose, sweetheart.”

Andrew nodded. That, at least, was familiar territory.  “I can get behind that. Fine. Now is it just stupidity that you decided not to bring the picture with you as proof, or do you have something else up your tight sleeves?”

Allison eyed the black armbands sticking out of his big sweater. A single, well-manicured brow rose.

“Perhaps a bit of both.”

His eye twitched in annoyance, but he stifled the feeling and nodded. “Welcome aboard.” Andrew snapped his moleskin closed.

Dan scoffed and shook her head. Renee, though approving of Allison on the team, still looked at him with vague disappointment _again_.

“Andrew, you can’t keep the car,” she said in that soothing voice she always had. The voice that told much more than she let on.

“Like fuck I can’t.” He mumbled, then looked at her. “What’s going to happen? My name will be tarnished? Validity gone?”

She pressed her lips together.

He heard Seth say, “What about me, baby? Little Monster gets a car - but really, I do most of the work.”

Allison didn’t bother looking at him, “Get yourself a sugar Daddy, baby.”

Seth sputtered, but Andrew cut him off.

“Anyway. You’re paying for this mess and any extra expenses we need. We had plans to go to Florida anyway because of the Port St. Lucie and Parkland sightings, so we’ll add the Keys to the trip.”

“Cool. I’m coming with you,” Allison said immediately. “If I’m paying for this, I’m coming.”

Andrew wasn’t going to argue. He knew nothing about the Keys and it would be easier having Allison there to show them where she saw Mary and Nathaniel and to find the picture she supposedly had. Even if she were lying, it wouldn’t be a complete waste.

 _He hoped_.

“Fine.” He said, “We’re leaving Wednesday. That should give us time to get Episode 2 recorded and make travel plans. Renee, Reynolds and I will go. Dan-” He pointed with his pen towards her, “Get with Reynolds to make the plans since she’s footing the bill.”

Andrew stood and gathered his things with him. Renee sighed and he shook his head. “You wanted me to consider her,” he said quietly, “Consider this, considered.”

He looked over at Allison. “Get your credit card ready, Reynolds.”

Allison smiled, all white teeth and shiny diamonds, “Black card on deck, Monster.”

[ Record Off ]

-

The rest of Monday and most of Tuesday was spent getting Episode 2 recorded. Seth was able to add the Audio Notes like Andrew wanted, and it turned out better than he thought it would. He still hated the sound of his voice, but at least he had something to say.

 _I guess_.

Allison wasn’t in the studio that day. She was busy getting things ready for the trip - whatever that meant. Apparently, she had a number of people to call. Andrew couldn’t imagine having to call an entire team of people when he wanted to go somewhere. But alas -

He and King made their way out to the Maserati on Tuesday, Renee by his side, chatting about the trip and adding things to the mental to-do list Andrew was keeping.

“So,” Renee changed the subject, “What are you going to do with the GS?” She still wasn’t too jazzed about his decision - claiming that it went against all ethical standards of journalism.

_It did._

But she came around purely because he ignored every argument she attempted. Eventually, she gave up and moved on.

Speaking of, the GS was parked at his apartment complex and if there was anything he felt truly guilty about, it was the fact that he got into the Mas and not the GS. That car had been with him through college, through his masters, through moving all over the country, through getting fired and ending up back here - back _home_.

“You could probably get a good amount of money if you sell it.”

 _Excuse me?_ Andrew was personally offended and he let her know with the disgusted look he threw her way. Shaking his head, “Absolutely not. I’m going to put it in storage. There’s a place not far from the apartment where I can keep it.”

“Keep it for what?”

_You’re getting soft._

“Bella’s going to need a car one day,” he said, shrugging and ignoring the voice inside his head. “I have an extra car that’s paid off. I’ll hang onto it for her. Keep it tuned up. Maybe refurbish it when she’s old enough.”

“That’s a very long time to hold onto a car, Uncle Andrew.”

It was. He knew that. He also knew it may be a little ridiculous - but, he didn’t like the idea of anyone else driving it. He would never be a rich guy, doing what he does. So, in a  way, being able to give Bella a car for her 16th birthday would be something he could do to help. And if it drove Aaron crazy, he wouldn’t mind that either.

_Soft, soft, soft._

“It’s not so long.”

-

_Why the fuck does everyone insist on getting flights that were so god damned, mother fucking early?_

Andrew found himself behind the wheel of the GS. No offense to her, but he wasn’t going to trust the Mas in the airport parking lot and he refused to let anyone else drive. So, she was tucked away in the apartment parking lot, hidden underneath a cover and he was only a little worried about leaving her alone for so long.

Speaking of, it was 5:30 in the fucking morning and they were on their way to catch a flight to Florida. Renee sat beside him, Allison in the back - far more awake than she had any right to be.

King was at the studio again. They all decided that she would stay there while Andrew and Renee went on their trips. It was better than leaving her at the apartment. Despite being a cat, she was far more sociable than most and prefered to be around _someone_. So, it was better that she was there. Dan, Seth, Wymack, and Abby could keep her company, give her attention and love - it was, in a way, the perfect solution. Nonetheless, he hated being apart from her for too long - both for her and for himself...especially since they were going to be gone longer this time, until Sunday.

They had several stops on this trip. Key West, Parkland, and Port St. Lucie. He wasn’t looking forward to all of the traveling, but his interest in what Allison _might_ have and the ability to cross Port. St. Lucie and Parkland off his list was too tempting not to take advantage of.

Once at the airport, Andrew was not surprised to learn that Allison had booked herself and Renee in first class (There was a weird thing going on between them that Andrew couldn’t quite pin. The first day Allison had shown up at the studio, Renee had apparently made Allison feel so guilty about the mink coat she was wearing, that she ended up dropping it at a homeless shelter and donating 250k to WWF). He was, however, surprised that she’d booked _him_ in first class as well.

He couldn’t deny first class held a certain _swank_ appeal. That is, until the plane took off. It seemed no matter how fancy the seats may be, it was still a tin can deathtrap.

“So,” Renee said, unbuckling herself when the fasten seatbelt sign turned off. “Allison, when we get to Miami, what happens?”

Allison put down the magazine she’d been reading - which apparently had one of her designs on the cover - and turned to face them from across the aisle.

“My assistant will pick us up and take us to my place. We can chill there, get some food, whatever you want. Then, we’ll leave from there and drive to the house in Islamorada. It’s about two hours away.”

_Two hours._

Two hours that Andrew would be stuck in a car with Allison. He wanted to complain, wanted to say something slick, but the thought of spending one minute in the little puddle jumper plane that would have taken them to the Keys originally, was enough to keep his trap shut.

“Do you remember where you saw Mary and Nathaniel initially?” Andrew asked instead.

“Yes, god. I remember everything,” She said, looking to the roof of the plane. “I remember what he was wearing, the look on his face when I talked to him-”

_What?_

“You _spoke_ with him?” Andrew asked, heart beating double time.

_An actual encounter?_

“Yes, we were-”

_Shut up._

“Stop.” Andrew held up a hand. “We’ll get your full account when we get to the house in the Keys. I want it fresh and unrehearsed.”

Allison shrugged, “Whatever.”

-

Most of the flight was spent in relative silence. The WiFi was fine on the plane, so he busied himself on Twitter and a bit on the website, while Renee organized info on her laptop.

They were met at baggage claim in Miami by a very tall, very thin man who gave Andrew a once over and a smirk. Allison introduced him as Dion.

“You can call me D,” he said, still looking at Andrew. “All my friends do.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, ignored him, grabbed his bag from the conveyor belt, and made his way outside. Somewhere in between the door and the parking lot, he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter from his bag before lighting up. The first hit relaxed him immediately. Renee walked beside him and sent him a disapproving glare that Andrew again, dutifully ignored. They had a lot of driving ahead of them. It was either this or losing their funding due to stress-induced murder.

Andrew didn’t attempt to wrestle the keys from Dion because he was a civilized adult. He did, however, get into the front seat and ignored Allison’s protests. If he couldn’t drive, he wasn’t sitting in the back, that was for sure. From what he remembered of Miami drivers - if he was going to die, he wanted to see it coming for him. Not obscured by Allison’s stupid, blonde, head.

Speaking of stupid, after 45 minutes of Miami traffic and inane conversation,   Allison’s house revealed itself as just as ridiculous as Andrew assumed it would be. It was gigantic with a pool fit for Miami and a gardener in the front doing a whole lot of nothing, as far as Andrew could tell.

Dion opened the front door, Allison’s bags in hand, and Allison breezed in with sunglasses on and high heels clicking on the tile. Andrew and Renee followed her to a kitchen with a marble countertop and three different fucking ovens for some reason. She threw her 5k or some shit bag onto the counter like it was nothing, and gestured around them.

“Welcome home!” Allison said, spinning around and encompassing the entire house. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’m going to go make some calls and see if there’s anything that needs tending before we leave again.” She turned to walk down an arched hallway that probably lead to ten different bedrooms and a spa.

“Dion!” She called on the way, “Bring my calendar. I need to call Duckie and reschedule our fitting. I want to be there to see how the piece looks in person.”

Allison clacked away, Dion following after sending Andrew another glance. Andrew, again, ignored him and went about raiding whatever gerbil food Allison had in this place.

“Sandwich?” he asked Renee after rifling through the contents of Allison’s fridge.

After getting the affirmative from Renee, he set about making said sandwiches. He knew Renee didn’t like mayo, and that she loved crust like a crazy person. He knew that she loved pickles and turkey and made the sandwich with all of that in mind and with what Allison had in the fridge. Surprisingly, there was more fatty shit than he had expected from her.

_Respect._

Once he was finished with both of their early lunches, he set Renee’s infront of her on a paper towel and found a bag of Takis in the cabinet.

~~_Double respect_ _._ ~~

_No._

_Fuck Reynolds._

Ripping open the bag he settled beside her and started to eat. When they were both halfway through, Renee said, “So. When we get to the Keys, how do we handle this? Does Allison come with us when we’re talking to people?”

Andrew fiddled through the chip bag to find the _perfect_ one as he deliberated, then answered, “I think she has to. We don’t know the area. I don’t know how well known her family is, but it might help us to have someone who knows the place.”

Renee nodded. Allison reappeared in a completely different outfit, headscarf tied loosely around her face with her sunglasses atop her head, and with a new suitcase.

“Did you change?” He asked, incredulous. “We’re about to get in a car and drive for two hours. Why bother?”

Allison pulled back her chin, “I need to be in car clothes.”

“Airplane clothes are so different?”

She rolled her eyes, gave him one of her _ugh’s_ and said, “Don’t bother me. Why are you eating off paper towels?”

Andrew looked down at his half eaten sandwich on the crumb-filled paper towel. “Because they were there? What else do you use them for?”

“UGH!” She said louder, then lowered her voice to hiss, “Fucking peasants.” She made her way to the cabinets, “For cleaning shit. Like normal fucking people. I don’t think that’s a rich-bitch thing.” She got out two plates, “Who raised you? Fucking barbaric...” Setting them down, she pushed them across the island towards them and said, “Can’t believe you have my girl eating off a napkin.” She gave Renee a wink and Renee hid a smile.

_Oh?_

Andrew raised his brow at Renee, but it was Renee that ignored him this time as she transferred her sandwich to the plate.

“How do you know she doesn’t have _me_ eating off a napkin?” Andrew countered, pushing the offered plate away, just to be difficult.

“Because she would never.” How matter of fact. “Hurry up and finish. I want to get out of here before fashion changes trends.”

-

Once they finished their food - Allison eating the entire bag of Takis as substitute along with a salad of what Andrew was fairly certain was just kale, lemon juice, and _tahini_ , they made their way to the five-car garage.

“We’ll take the Porsche,” Allison said, leading them to the far end. Andrew couldn’t help but let his eyes pass over the irritatingly gorgeous cars splayed out around him. A Benz, Rolls Royce _Wraith_ , Bently, Lamborghini, a fucking _McLaren -_ Andrew’s mouth was watering and his fingers itched to just _touch_ . He shoved his hands into his pockets until Allison stopped in front of said _Porsche_ . It was hot pink, convertible, shiny and so fucking Allison it nearly made him sick, if it weren’t a _fucking Porsche_.

Allison went to open the driver door and Andrew stopped her by stepping in her way.

“I’m driving. Keys.” He spoke with the same confidence Bella had when she knew she could get Andrew to do whatever she liked, and held out his hand.

“You’re going to drive my pink car? My Barbie pink drop-top Porsche?” Allison looked disbelieving.

“What?” Andrew asked, “Will people think I’m gay? Oh no!” Andrew put his hand over his mouth in a gasp, then looked at Allison blankly again. He wiggled his fingers, “Give me the fucking keys. I drive or I don’t go.”

Allison scoffed. “Fine, you _little_ shit. But I’m taking the Maserati back if you wreck it.”

Andrew blinked once, then let himself smile a small, sarcastic smile with the barest of quirk of his lips. “No, you won’t.”

-

The drive to Islamorada was excruciating. Florida drivers didn’t know how to fucking drive, so he spent a good portion of his time dodging blinkerless cars. The other part of that time, was listening to Renee chat with Allison - because she could talk to anyone. They talked over the backseat about earth-conscious fashion, organic cotton, and vegan leather. The only thing that made any of this slightly tolerable, was the fact that he was driving a fucking _Porsche_.

At least when they’d reached the Keys, things got much smoother. It was different than what he’d expected, to be honest. When he thought of the Keys, he thought commercialized vacations, rich people, and that stupid Netflix series he’d given up on one episode in. But, this was different. Sure, there were hotels all over, but the islands were made up of mom and pop shops. The only remotely commercial thing was a single Wendy’s, McDonalds, and Starbucks that Allison made them stop at because  _‘There’s not another fucking Starbucks until we hit Key West*_ ’.

They passed through Key Largo on Overseas Highway (the only way in and out of the Keys), into Tavernier and things started to change. With the top down he could smell salty air, the sun was shining and it was, actually, really fucking nice.

_Don’t fucking @ me._

Tavernier was connected to Islamorada by a drawbridge _that was up_ . Allison spent the entirety of its rise and fall, by being _oh so interested_ in the ways in which recycled materials can not only be high quality, but blah fucking blah blah blah.

Once they crossed the bridge, if they weren’t close enough to the house, Andrew was going to drive this pretty pink Porsche straight into the goddamned ocean.

The Reynolds family vacation home was located in some exclusive fucking neighborhood on _The Ocean Side_. Whereas most expensive homes are built on the canals that ran through the Keys, this neighborhood was made up of private beaches and homes that were perhaps a bit dated, but for - of course - the Reynolds.

It was modest, in comparison to Allison’s Miami mansion, but it stuck out from the rest. With a private gate and a winding driveway that led to a house resting on one of the _exclusive_ beaches, the house was simple in that charming way, he supposed. It was a white home with the walls made up of shells, with a flat roof and wrap around screened porch. Palms bent in the wind, the gardens were vibrant and well maintained, and there were a few iguanas bathing in the sun.

They got out of the car, stretching themselves, and Andrew took a sip of his caramel frappuccino as he _very briefly_ took in the smell and sound of waves crashing in the background.

 **It** **_was not_ ** **nice**.

Then, he took out his phone and asked Renee to take a picture of him in front of the pink Porsche.

“Sure, Uncle Andrew,” She smiled and snapped a single picture.

Allison stood to the side and shook her head saying, “What about the rest?” Then walked away with her bag over her shoulder. “You have to take _several_ and pick the best one. Who fucking raised _-”_ her voice faded as she made her way to the front door and unlocked it.

Andrew smirked only to himself, Renee most certainly _did not_ see, and he sent the _single_ picture to Aaron with instruction to show it to Bella.

Grabbing his and Renee’s bags from the trunk, he looked down at his phone to see:

_‘Where the hell did you find that thing?’_

_‘Rich Bitch Barbie. Just show her.’_

The house on the inside was very...New England. Nautical in that way beach houses were, it had that _smell_ to it too. Fresh and airy, salty, yet sweet. It was all tile floors for easy sand clean up and large windows for the sun to let itself in. How this place made it through hurricanes, he didn’t fucking know and didn’t care enough to ask. Nonetheless, there was a large pool in the back and a few feet beyond that, the ocean.

“Why would you have a pool when the ocean is right there?” Andrew asked.

Allison gave him a look, her lip curled, “You swim in the ocean?”

Andrew shrugged. “No, but I don’t swim in pools either.”

“Okay well, in this house, we don’t _swim_ in the ocean. It ruins your hair. And though I wear wigs, I’m not letting my curls get fucked up. Thank you, next.”

Renee was busy exploring the main living area with a little smile on her lips. Andrew rolled his eyes and asked, “Where am I sleeping? Let’s decompress before we get into anything serious here.” Andrew needed to just be by himself for a few hours.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want the information as fast as possible. Of course, he did. There was unsettled energy vibrating through his veins - wanting to _search_ and gather information, learn more and piece together this ever growing puzzle. But, he needed to be in the right frame of mind. No impulses, just sure, calculated steps forward. Something as simple as interviewing this Blonde Barbie would take that extra care.

Allison showed them to two rooms next to each other. More tile, more windows. As soon as he closed the door in Allison’s face, he shut the curtains to get the god damned sun out in an attempt to make the room as dark as he could. Once that was finished, he kicked his boots off and laid on the bed, checking Twitter and Tumblr on his phone.

-

Several hours later, he was started awake by a knock on the door.

“Andrew?” Renee called through.

“What?” His voice was sleep rough and he cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Turning his head, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses.

“Do you want to come discuss the rest of the trip? Allison is looking for the picture now.”

He looked up to the ceiling for a moment, before rolling out of bed. Somehow, he was more tired than before. When he checked his phone, there was a text from Aaron.

It was a video. Bella was showing the camera a pink toy car she had. Her little voice came through his phone and it was like music to his oversensitive, sleep warmed ears.

_‘Unkie Andwew has a pink car like me’_

_‘I know baby. He sent that picture just for you’_

Bella looked at the camera and held up her little pink car with the flowers, so it was right in front of her. The car obstructed his view of her completely.

_‘Look Unkie!’_

The video stopped and Andrew smiled at his phone until he heard Allison’s voice from the main room.

“Found it!”

He found her and Renee sitting on the couch surrounded by boxes full of pictures. Allison was holding one and staring at it intently.

“Lord, I forgot how sad he looked...” She whispered softly.

Andrew hurried over and snatched the picture out of her hand. It was of a very young Allison, sans blonde hair and grill, but a big smile in its place. She was with what looked like three friends, and they were posing with peace signs. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, he would have missed it - but it was there, right in the back.

Mary and Nathaniel were facing the camera, walking towards where Allison and her friends were. Mary’s head was turned towards Nathaniel and she had one hand gripping his arm. He was looking straight ahead, eyes just as startlingly blue as Andrew remembered, even when photographed at this distance. His face was blank. He looked only a little older than in the family photo.

_Buzz._

“What year did you say this was?” He asked, eyes still locked on Nathaniel.

“2002. I remember because I was going through my Brandy ‘Full Moon’ phase. Look at the hair,” he glanced up at her with a brow raised. “Don’t look at me like that, Monster. Don’t pretend you didn’t go through a white boy scene phase.”

That was beside the point.

“Okay,” he started, “So you saw them in 2002. This is definitely them.” Andrew ran a finger over Nathaniel’s face. “What were they doing here? Were they hiding or were they here for a reason?”

Renee interjected, “How about we get some dinner. Then, we’ll get into a deeper discussion about this,” she suggested.

Andrew begrudgingly agreed, while Allison just shrugged her shoulders.

They went to a restaurant called Marker 88. It was exactly as Andrew would have expected. Everything was overpriced and included fish in some way or another. But, the drinks were good and the atmosphere was nice, but for the acoustic singer, rattling away some faux reggae song. Nonetheless, they sat by the water and a few cats walked by - which wholly changed his entire mood (according to Allison, the Florida Keys has a cat problem. A million strays that just wander around. Andrew didn’t see that as a problem at all).

He closed his seafoodless seafood pasta, with a slice of the Chocolate Toffee Mousse Cake - which was excellent and he enjoyed making Allison pay for.

On their way out, Allison bought a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine as they were leaving and somehow dodged a conversation by an old couple sitting at a table they passed.

Once they got back to the house, they found themselves on the back porch as night stretched above them. One of the _maids_ lit torches to ward off the few bugs that stuck around despite the ocean breeze and the light was just enough for Andrew to make out the three of them seated around the circular table.

The recorder sat between them on the table, a large microphone attached.

[ Record On ]

He began. “Andrew Minyard, interviewing Allison Reynolds. April 24, 2019 - 7:21PM.”

Allison, without being prompted, leaned towards the recorder and said, “Allison Reynolds, fashion designer and bad bitch. Twenty-eight years old with skin as if she were eighteen. Rich beyond measure.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Thank you, your highness. Tell me your story. You say you saw Mary and Nathaniel in Key West, 2002. You would’ve been eleven years old. What happened?”

Allison took a sip of her wine. Her sparkling rings _tinged_ against the glass. When Andrew raised a brow, she gave him her signature smirk before turning serious. “I had three friends with me here that year-”

“Here as in the Keys, correct?”

Her eye twitched in a slight challenge, before she lifted her chin for a nod. “Yes. I had three friends with me here in the Keys. We always stay here, at my family’s home in Islamorada - but we would go to Key West for the fun touristy shops. So, it was me, three friends, and my au pair. We were in one of the shops that sold jewelry and trinkets. You know, the kind you find at every beach shop. Puca shells, hemp necklaces, etc etc. Anyway,” She took a deep breath, “My friends were in one corner, looking at this display of really hideous butterfly clips. I was on the other side, looking at some bracelets that were on a spinning display. But, when I tried to turn it, it wouldn’t move. So, I looked to the other side and there was a boy there.”

Andrew fought the impulse to crack his pinky. Instead, he bit down on his lip ring for half a second before asking, “Can you describe him for us? His appearance, his demeanor?”

“He was small, like you,” _Buzz._ “Could’ve passed for seven, but I would say eight. Darkish red hair and these eyes that were just... so blue. Thick black lashes-”

“They were auburn,” Andrew said, then barreled on when Allison and Renee looked at him. “From the family photo. If you blow it up, they were auburn.”

 _Buzz_.

Allison raised a brow but continued. “Anyway, his skin was a few shades darker than yours and he had freckles. A real cute kid. He seemed alright when I saw him, but when I told him the bracelet in his hand would look really pretty with his eyes, you would’ve thought I just told him I killed puppies.” She tapped a long nail against her glass. “His mom must’ve seen us talking. She marched over and yanked him out by the arm - told him he wasn’t to talk to anyone. Her skin was darker than his. Not as dark as mine, but still like... toasty, I guess. Her hair was a dirty blonde. Her eyes...she looked insane, to be honest.”

Andrew’s pulse sped ahead of itself and he tried to clamp it down. “Okay, so what happened after you saw them in the shop? Did you see them anywhere else?”

“I only saw them one more time that day in passing, but that’s it. I didn’t even realize they were in the picture until we had them developed.”

“So, when did you realize it was Mary and Nathaniel?” Renee asked, taking a sip of water while Allison nursed her wine. Andrew had a glass of scotch that Allison had produced from a very dusty bottle of Johnny Walker.

“Not until 2004. It was when the Butcher was arrested and it was all over the news. I saw that family photo pop up somewhere and I knew immediately. All the news ever said was that they had been missing and no clues to their whereabouts were ever found.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Andrew knew she had. Most of the reason she was even doing this was to prove everyone wrong.

Allison rolled her neck and waved her glass, “I told everyone. No one believed me, said I was crazy. Even after I tried to pull the picture out one summer and show my parents.” She drained the remaining wine in one go and poured herself another glass - pinky up.

Andrew nodded slowly. “Okay...so tell us why you want to do this. To help us find Mary and Nathaniel and fund the project in the process.”

“I told you why,” Allison said, annoyed.

“In your own words.”

She huffed and set the bottle down. “Because I’m not fucking crazy. I _saw_ them and they were here, in the Keys, 2002, and they looked fucking terrified. I _know_ they were running from something. It was a chance meeting, inconsequential, but it never left me. I want to prove I’m right, but I also want to help that kid. I know he’d be grown now, but if they’re still out there, if they’re still running, I want to help.”

Andrew reached for the recorder. “Okay.”

[ Record Off ]

-

The next morning, they left bright and early for Key West. It was another long drive in the car, but this time, not only were they able to discuss where they needed to go and what they needed to do, but it was a calm drive as well. There was little traffic in the middle of the week and they stopped somewhere in Marathon Key to pick up coffee and something to eat.

Once they arrived in Key West, they parked in a designated parking area and made their way to the location where Allison had seen Nathaniel and Mary with no delay.

There were a shit ton of touristy shops with all the crap one would see in any beach town and Andrew was certain people didn’t need an entire store dedicated to Crocs.

Allison led them to one in particular that held surfing equipment, themed towels, and jewelry. It wasn’t a small shop, but it was connected to several others on Duval Street.

“So, this is the shop you saw them in?” Andrew asked.

Allison pulled her sunglasses up and squinted in the sun. She nodded and sighed, “Yes. It looks different, but this is it.”

When they entered, neither of them bothered to look around but instead made a beeline for the checkout counter. A woman sat behind, flipping through a magazine. She looked up at Andrew and his black armbands and piercings and was very obviously confused.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She wasn’t too young, not too old. She must have been in her mid-forties with curling hair and sunglass tan lines.

“My name is Andrew Minyard and I’m a journalist working on a story. Do you mind answering a few questions?”

The woman stood a little straighter and tried to flatten her curls.

Renee took out the recorder and placed it on the counter with raised brows. “Is it alright if we record? It’s for continuity.”

The woman nodded and smiled as if she were on camera, then asked, “What’s the story about?”

Andrew let his eyes pass over the place. “We’re looking for some people that went missing a number of years ago. They were spotted in this area.” He tried to be as vague and as honest as possible.

“Oh! Well, I don’t know if I can help, but I’m happy to try.” She pushed her magazine off to the side and leaned forward on the counter.

[ Record On ]

“First, what’s your name and how do you spell it?” He asked. Renee held the recorder up between them to try and bypass the noise of shoppers and tourists in the background.

“Deborah Watkins.” She spelled it out.

“Right. How long have you worked in this store?”

“Well, my husband and I own it, actually. For about ten years now.”

 _Fuck_.

So they weren’t here when Allison spotted them.

Nonetheless. “Do you know the previous owners?” he asked, “Are they still in the area?”

Deborah got a weird look on her face that quickly turned conspiratorial in that way some women get when they’re about to gossip. “Ah, well. That. Turns out they were running some sort of illegal business out the back of the store.” She waved her hand errantly towards the wall behind her. _Buzz_. “Feds came in and shut them down. We bought the store when it went up for sale, some years later.”

_Illegal business?_

“Do you know what kind of illegal business? Drugs maybe?” he suggested, glancing at Renee to find her brows raised and looking back at him.

“No, no. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was counterfeit money and documents. We found a bunch of weird paper in the back and there was ink everywhere. Apparently, a federal investigation doesn’t also mean clean up.”

Andrew’s stomach did a little leap like it always did when he knew he was onto something important. Bee _buzzed_ in his ear and he quickly scratched at her to quiet down because he _knew._ Taking out his phone, he zoomed in on the image he’d snapped of Allison’s picture of Mary and Nathaniel.

“These people were seen here in 2002. Were you here then? Do you recall seeing them?”

Deborah paused for a long moment. Her eyes squinted and she hummed to herself, before shaking her head. “Mm...no. We were here then, but they don’t look familiar to me.”

_Well._

“Okay.” _Be polite._ “Thank you for your time. Do you happen to know if there are any other shop owners that have been in the area for longer? Twenty years or so?”

[ Record Off ]

The woman gave Andrew the name of a few shops which he jotted down, and they made their way out of the store.

“That was good...” Renee started once they exited.

Andrew grunted in agreement. He had to admit, “It was really good.” He decided not to look at Allison as she popped her sunglasses back over her eyes and hummed self-satisfied.

“So,” she started, hooking her arm with Renee and steering them down the street to head to another location. “What does all this mean?”

Andrew sighed. “It means, your highness, that if we can confirm this is true - it’s entirely plausible Mary was in that store trying to get papers for her and Nathaniel. Fake ID’s, passports...who knows. But it’s all on the table.”

Allison’s eyes widened from beneath the shades. “Oh. _Oh._ That makes sense if they were hiding...”

_Yeah. It does._

They spent the next hour contacting other shop owners. There was only one person who had been there under a different store name a number of years before that recalled seeing them.

“I remember, only because they were so damn twitchy. They came in the store, it was a kind of sundries store back then, and asked if we sold hair dye. We didn’t and she was not happy about it. Dragged that kid out of here and I didn’t see them again.

“So, they were trying to disguise themselves,” Allison said later, picking at the food they were sitting down and eating. “New looks, new identities. They were  determined not to be found, it seems.”

“It does seem,” Andrew said.

The next stop was the Monroe County Library. Andrew looked through all the local news he could find from the last seventeen years until he found what he needed. According to the article, the shop was shut down in 2005 after an undercover investigation revealed a forgery business being run out of the back. Andrew printed the article and stuck it in his notebook.

 _This is fucking huge_.

Now, they knew. They weren't just looking for Mary and Nathaniel - no. They could be looking for literally _anyone_ , which made this infinitely harder.

_Are they still even in the country?_

Suddenly, this entire thing grew exponentially larger.

-

Friday morning, they drove back to Miami. Thankfully, once they arrived, they left Allison to sort out whatever it was she said she needed to sort out, and drove the _Wraith_ to Parkland.

In a way, Andrew was incredibly relieved. Not to be driving to Parkland, to feel the heavy souls that hung around that place after horrific recent events, but he was done letting Allison play investigator. For something like this, he needed to keep his head screwed on straight - needed to have a clear mind and a set goal so he didn't fly off the rails. Not to mention, he couldn’t handle listening to Allison jabber on about how she had a fitting with someone named Duckie Thot (who he was sure could not be a real person). Nor could he put up with the house she was renting in Palmetto, along with the consequences that brought forth.

Nonetheless.

After Renee and Andrew dropped Allison off, they ate a quick lunch and drove the hour or so drive. By the time they arrived, they would have plenty of time to meet their contact -

Which, was a woman named Sarah Johnson. She was a well-known journalist and handled the coverage of the missing mother and son, way back in 2002.

It was a simple Starbucks, but it was the middle of a school day and mostly empty. Sarah was a woman that Andrew was familiar with through various connections and they both graduated from Columbia’s Journalism school. Of course, she was double his age, but still tried to chat him up about professors and other bullshit that Andrew was trying his best to cut through.

“Yeah, Professor Whelty was an ass.  But moving on.” He motioned towards Renee where she had taken out their trusty recorder and placed it on the table with a smile.

[ Record On ]

He went through the usual set up - name, how to spell it, the time and date, etc etc, then jumped right in without any further precursors.

“What can you tell me about this case? The mother and son you reported on in 2002?” He began.

Sarah smiled a shining smile with too-straight teeth that could rival even Allison’s. Her brown eyes glittered tightly, just as much as the rest of her face, and she took a sip of her coffee before saying, “Not much, honestly. We got the report from Port St. Lucie. They were there before and were traced here - to Parkland. We know the child had red hair and blue eyes, around seven years old. Port St. Lucie gave us the names, Mary and Nathaniel Abrams.”

Renee and Andrew looked to each other.

 _Buzz_.

“So,” Andrew started, “Were they actually _spotted_ here? Did someone physically see them?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I think they were traced here using financial transactions or something. A rental car maybe? I’m sorry, I don’t have anymore information than that. It wasn’t a big case and they weren’t locals.”

Renee gave the smile Andrew could not (would not). “You’ve helped us so much,” she said. “We appreciate your time.”

[ Record Off ]

-

They didn’t bother interviewing anyone else and they had nowhere to start anyway. Milling around the town for a bit, they then had dinner before driving to Port St. Lucie, which was little more than an hour away. Once they arrived, they found a hotel to crash in that night and woke the next morning for an unappetizing hotel breakfast with even worse coffee.

No whipped cream in sight.

The person they were meeting this time was also a journalist, with graying hair and a belly paunch, named Bob Roberts. That’s right. Robert Roberts. Andrew wondered what kind of psychopaths his parents were, but quickly realized how ridiculous that was when searching for a mother and son who’s husband/father chopped people up for a living.

They met him for lunch this time and he had far more information than Sarah did. There were article printouts involving the mother and son, and he’d emailed Andrew the news clips. Bob Roberts was honestly here to help.

[ Record On ]

“We think they came from Orlando,” he said, scratching at his thin beard. “They drove to Port St. Lucie in a rental car that they ditched as soon as they got here.” He took a deep breath and as he let it out, he continued, “Anyway, no one knew who they were, of course. But local PD got a call from someone claiming that Mary and Nathaniel Abrams were here. We have no real idea  what tipped this person off to their whereabouts.”

“Why Orlando?” Andrew asked.

“We were able to locate the rental car they drove down and it’s registered ‘home’ was the Orlando International Airport. We don’t know where they were before that.”

Andrew considered this. Did they actually _fly_ into Orlando? Andrew had a feeling if anyone looked for _Mary_ and _Nathaniel Abrams_ flight records, they wouldn’t find any. That was federal territory anyway and the feds have proven that they don’t care.

So, they went from Orlando to Port St. Lucie to Parkland to Key West to meet their possible contact for even more _possible_ fake ID’s. Somewhere along the way, they must have changed their appearance and their names if the ID route panned through.

 _Okay_.

“Did anyone physically see them?” Andrew asked.

“Yes,” Bob said, taking another stack of papers from his bag. “Here are the interviews we have of the sightings. There are only a few, but they seem pretty reliable. The descriptions match, at least.”

[ Record Off ]

Andrew nodded his thanks and paid the bill before they left. As Renee shook Bob’s hand (Andrew’s remained in his pockets) Bob said, “I love your podcast, by the way.” He looked between them. “I know you’re probably trying to stay under the radar, but when I heard Andrew Minyard was calling for me - I admit, I was excited.”

Andrew just stared. “Why would someone be excited about a journalist looking for missing people?”

“Thank you!” Renee interjected. “We appreciate that. Episode two is dropping tomorrow, we hope you listen!”

Bob smiled the type of smile that must come easy for men like him. “Oh, I will. And good luck with everything. I hope you find them.”

As they exited the restaurant, Andrew heard Bob call after them, “ _Keep Searching!”_

_-_

Andrew and Renee drove back to Miami that evening.

Allison’s house was in disarray. Boxes were everywhere and Allison was on her knees in the living room, tossing things about.

“What the hell are you doing?” Andrew asked, dropping his bag at his feet and taking in the mess around him. “Surely you’re not taking all of this shit to Palmetto?”

“Of course not, Monster,” She mumbled, her hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. “I’m just making sure I don’t leave anything important behind.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Dion said, coming around the corner. He brightened at the sight of Andrew and flashed him a smile that said more than just ‘welcome back’. “Hey, you. How was the trip?”

Allison looked up and between them.

“No,” she said with finality.

“What?” Dion asked, not taking his eyes off Andrew.

“Absolutely not, Dion. You can’t fuck him. Understand? This shit is complicated enough without you putting your dick where it doesn't belong.” She tossed something at him, which he caught with surprisingly good reflexes. “Keep it in your fucking pants.

Dion pouted his plush lips, “You’re no fun...”

“Wow, it’s almost as if I’m not here,” Andrew said, unclamping his teeth from grinding together. He turned his eyes to Allison. “You don’t tell me who I can and cannot fuck, Reynolds. Let’s get that straight first.”

Dion smiled brightly before Andrew looked to him and said, “Secondly, it was never going to happen. Sorry to disappoint.”

Not that Andrew hadn’t considered it - he most certainly _had_ . Dion was attractive in a very Miami kind of way. Tall and fit, with light brown skin and dark brown eyes. Oh, he’d thought about it. But, the fact of the matter was, he was in no state of mind and he hadn’t enough time to figure out what kind of guy this _Dion_ is. His hookups were always carefully considered - he didn’t know this guy, didn’t know if he knew how to keep his hands to himself or follow instructions. _Right now_ , it’d be more trouble than it was worth.

The look on Dion’s face must have been what set off Allison’s laughter that followed him into the kitchen. Renee was already digging through the fridge. When she looked over her shoulder at him, she smiled serenely and Andrew rolled his eyes. “Make sure you get a god damned plate this time,” he muttered.

Renee just hummed as she pulled things out and went about making something.

“So,” she said, after a moment of silence. “We got a lot of good info this trip.”

“Mm,” he hummed, “We did. Now we need to figure out where they went after the Keys. They could’ve gone overseas with fake passports... or across the country. Who fucking knows.” Andrew grabbed a handful of chips from the bag Renee had thrown on the counter.

“We haven’t delved too deep into Europe.” Renee washed the container of grapes and placed them pointedly on a paper towel with a wink at Andrew. “Maybe we should look a little more into that? Try and see if there were any sightings after 2002. We’ve received a few emails that could possibly give us some leads.”

Andrew nodded and chewed some more.

Silence stretched between them.

Eventually Renee asked, “Where are you at right now?”

“We’re going to find them,” Andrew replied quietly. “I can feel it.”

-

The flight on Sunday wasn’t as terrible as the flight there. However, Andrew was more than glad to be back in South Carolina. He missed King and the few videos Dan had sent him did nothing to dull his anxiety from being away for so long.

After landing, all three of them piled into the GS. It would have been four, as Dion came with them this time. However, he got himself a rental car to do errands or whatever the fuck for Allison’s move.

As soon as they got themselves onto the road for the two-hour drive to Palmetto, Andrew’s phone rang. It was Dan.

He answered with every intention in asking how King was, but Dan cut him off before he had the chance. “We have a problem.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “We always do. What is it this time?”

Dan’s voice was tighter than usual. He could hear how hard she was trying to keep her cool. “We received a cease and desist today from Edgar Allen Productions. Abby received a certified letter with your name and The Foxhole Network on it.”

 _Finally_.

“Took them long enough,” Andrew replied. Honestly, he’d been expecting this since he was fired from the Globe.

“Andrew,” Dan used _that_ tone. “This is serious shit. We could be sued if we defy this order.” He could hear paper rattling in the background, like Dan was shaking it at the phone.

“Yes, yes I’m sure we will be. Tell Abby to start looking for ways around it and I’ll be there soon.” He hung up without waiting for her reply and kept his eyes on the road.

“Edgar Allen finally got around to it, huh?” Renee asked.

“Look’s that way.”

“Well, Monster,” Allison said from the backseat, grinning in the rearview. “Guess you’ll have to make your case without them.”

 _Buzz_.

“We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary *  
> Starbucks - if anyone has been to the Keys, I'm aware that another Starbucks has opened in Islamorada lol. OH WELL. - BloodyDamnit
> 
> -
> 
> Thank you for your patience and well-wishes. We obviously wanted to stay on schedule and post our audio notes from our trip to Florida last weekend, but sometimes the world catches up to you. Between the illness that spread through our office, we also received legal communications from Edgar Allen Productions and our time and focus has largely been occupied by that. Andrew and I are leaving tomorrow for our next destination, and planning has taken any remaining time we have had. We appreciate your patience, dedication and comments. Please remember you can send us any tips at foxholenetwork@gmail.com and keep searching! - R


	5. Episode 3: Florida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew, Renee, and Allison head to Florida to follow some leads. Allison proves her worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the creators:  
> It's here! and we are trying to get back on schedule! But life is busy for all of us and sometimes we just need to take a quick break. Thank you all so much for supporting us and giving us the time to create the best content we can for you!  
> Quick TW for panic attacks.
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)! We usually post updates on there, so you'll know if something is late or not!  
> Speaking of keeping up, We've finally gotten our Andrew and Renee accounts up! So expect replies to comments tonight and for the coming weeks!  
> That's it from us (for now).  
> -  
> 

_[ Piano. Sirens wailing ]_

_//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//_

_//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//_

_[ Run Little Rabbit Run, Run ]_

_//He hid behind... He thought he could hide behind a door. It was a nice door - expensive door.//_

_//The shocking part about a lot of these cases is how various circumstances and situations can result in somebody just completely vanishing. In a second they’re gone...with no trace of what happened to them.//_

_[ Orchestral music ]_

_//If you don’t want it found, you can take it somewhere. You could bury it. Put it in the trunk of a car and have it crushed.//_

_//At this point, Baltimore Police are fearing the worst.//_

_//We’re not talking about Runaways, we’re talking about situations where we know the people are in significant risk of harm.//_

_//Detectives are now working with authorities in Parkland and no where there have they seen this pair.//_

_You’re listening to Red Rabbits. I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_-_

Neil watched his feet as he walked. He listened to the sound of his worn sneakers _slap slap slap_ the pavement underneath and hoped, with his bowed head, he could fade into obscurity. This was one of the rules in the long list he and his mother had while running.

_Don’t make eye contact._

_Don’t stand out._

_Don’t talk to anyone._

_Don’t stay in one place._

_Don’t get attached._

_Don’t, don’t, don’t._

Even in New York City - a place where no one stood out, no one made eye contact, no one talked, no one stayed, and no one attached - the rules still applied. Because that is what had been ingrained ~~beaten~~ into him.

Though he recited the list in his head like a mantra, even he could not fool himself into thinking he was following them.

Once upon a time he’d been so good at it. Lately, like last-couple-of-months-kind-of-lately, he’d gotten really good at breaking every single thing his mother had desperately tried to instill.

This was going on three weeks that he’d been at Matt’s place and only today had he decided to do something that he should’ve done the moment he’d been hit by Matt’s truck.

Nonetheless.

The mantra continued and he repeated the words, syncing each syllable to the slap of his feet that melted into the hundreds of those around him. It created almost a song; a song of beats and horns and words and lies and attempts and failures and _slap slap slaps_ and - and it was his mother’s lullaby. A song of _running_ , a song of _survival_ , a song he neglected and pretended didn’t exist. Instead, he used it as white noise to fill the cracks in his crumbling facade.  

And so, that was his list of rules.

He was getting close now.

Little more than two weeks ago, Neil had decided not to call Frankie again. It was too risky - what if someone tapped the phones? What if someone, not Frankie, was waiting around for that phone to ring? He was compromised, Neil knew that much. But the level to which he was fucked, he didn’t know. And not for nothing, but Frankie was his last chance to get the fuck out of the States and start anew somewhere else.

Because that’s what needed to happen.

_Don’t get attached._

The past few weeks had been good and that was the problem.

 _Don’t stay in one place_.

One day turned into two, two into three, and an end was nowhere in sight. Neil had gotten comfortable in the security net that Matt Boyd had become. He was good company, as much as Neil hated to admit it.

_Don't. Get. Attached._

He _wasn’t_. But Matt really was a good thing, a good level of insurance until Neil got his shit together. His apartment was secure, he provided him with a job. And not only that, but even though Matt’s obsession with Red Rabbits had been disconcerting at first, it helped Neil stay updated with new releases. The only issue was making sure he kept himself in check enough that Matt didn’t catch the little twitches Neil couldn’t hold back whenever Matt spoke his birth name or brought up events of Neil’s childhood out of the blue.

_You have to stay one step ahead, Nathaniel._

_Know what’s coming for you. Know what’s after you. Get out before it’s too late._

Neil’s heart beat in his ears and it joined the lullaby his mother was screaming in his head. _Slap, slap, slaps_ turned to _ba-bum, bum, bums_ that grew louder and louder as he came up to Frankie’s shop. He forced himself to take a deep breath, drown out the noise and look up at the storefront window.

Empty.

When Neil had been here with his mother all those years ago, it had been a Realty office. Pictures of buildings hung in the windows and there used to be a desk with a receptionist and everything. He and his mother were quickly shuffled to the back where the business took place and that was that.

Now, however, the shop was _empty_. Neil didn’t want to linger - the voice in his head was doing everything it could to tell him to turn around and don’t look back, but he couldn’t help but peek.

Taking a step closer, he held up a hand to block the sunlight glaring through the buildings and looked through the dust collecting on the glass to see discolored carpet where furniture once stood and a poster with similar high rises to Matt’s half hanging off the wall.

Frankie had said he was done with all illegal mess. He’d said that he’d moved on, had been riding the ‘straight and narrow’. Was that true? For a place to be raided like this, with nothing left but a shitty clean-up job, Neil didn’t know.

What he did know, was that the _song_ , the _noise,_ the blood racing through his body, and one voice that was telling him to turn around and don’t come back - while another was advising him to figure out what the fuck happened.

He chose the second as panic started to creep up from his stomach - hot and tingly and working its way to his throat and eyes. What if it was just rivals? Another business coming to snuff Frankie out and squash competition. In that case, Neil should probably figure out who they are. In another, it could have been the feds, which was much more likely. Wiring several hundred thousand dollars to some Realtors office in New York, on second thought, didn’t seem like the best fucking idea in the world. But, hindsight was 20/20 and Neil would have to be much more careful from now on.

_Calm down. Focus._

Neil paced away from the shop and scanned his surroundings. It was just like every other upper Manhattan street. There were shops and people and cars and _people_ and dogs and more fucking people. He closed his eyes, leaned his back against one building and reminded himself how to breathe as another possibility crept into his head.

What if Frankie really was done with this life? What if he saw Neil as a good opportunity, took his money, and ran?

_No. No that makes no sense._

Frankie had been the one to call him. He’d been the one to say _something_ before Neil was hit by Matt’s fucking truck.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Swallowing down the acid that had collected in the back of his throat, Neil grit his teeth and looked across the street to a small bodega that looked as empty as bodegas get.

_Be smart. Calm the fuck down._

Balling his fists, Neil nodded to himself, pushed off the wall, jaywalked past honking cars across the street, and entered. Quarters were close inside. Shelves upon shelves of cheap food closing in on him as he shook his hands to try and get the numbness to leave his fingers. He felt claustrophobic, which didn’t help the panic attack making slow work on his psyche. Nonetheless, he had a goal in mind and ignored the isles ready to collapse on him as he made his way to the register. Behind it was a bored looking guy about his age, watching something on a small portable TV.  

“Excuse me,” Neil said, blinking the dryness away from the cheap new brand of contacts he’d ordered from a small shop in Brooklyn a week ago. When the man looked up, Neil barreled on. “Do you have any idea what happened to the realty office across the street? I had an appointment with them and they’re gone.”

The guy looked at him like he was slow before saying, “You not from here?”

Neil was confused. “I don’t really see what that-”

“They got popped by the feds. Saw them couple weeks ago carryin’ shit out and puttin’ it in trucks.”

Neil dug his nails into his palms. “What kind of shit?” They were starting to sweat.

“Like, computers and papers and shit. I don’t know. Probably embezzling money or somethin’. Anyway, your people got popped. Sorry. Probably locked up on Rikers by now.”

Neil somehow managed a weak ‘thank you’ before stumbling out of the shop and around the corner. He wedged himself against a wall beside a dumpster in an ally and allowed himself to finally fall apart.

_Not here, Nathaniel. Get your shit together._

It always started in his hands. The tingling in his fingers only grew. It crawled up his arms to his shoulders and all the way until his lips were numb and he felt like there was cotton in his ears. His eyes burned as tears threatened to come free, wetting the dry contacts uncomfortably. Neil clenched his eyes shut from allowing one to fall out and felt as hot and cold sweats wracked his body. He was shivering, teeth clacking and the back of his shirt stuck to his skin. He let it all come. Let it wash over him like a tsunami as he detached himself from the brick and the dumpster and the city and the _noise_ and _smells_ and everyone _slap slap fucking slaps_ of their stupid fucking shoes on the pavement.

 _You’re fucked_.

The feds didn’t have anything on him but a name...a name that -

No. He wasn’t truly fucked. Neil Josten was anonymous in NYC. He’d be fine. Everything was _fine_. All he needed to do was get it all out now so that this never happened again.

_In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth._

Slowly, he started to come back down. He may have been in that ally for one minute, five, an hour, he didn’t fucking know. But the panic was ebbing.

They used to be a part of who he was as a person. Neil was generally one giant ball of anxiety and if he wasn’t, he was just too comfortable. He’d learned that the hard way in Arizona.

Now, look where he was.

Neil took one last steadying breath, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and got up to his feet. No more of that. It was time to move forward and continue what he’d been doing.

Frankie was no longer an option.

-

_These past few weeks have been hectic, to say the least, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t actually feel accomplished. Not only have we been receiving consistent tips, but some of them seem to not be bullshit. That, surprisingly, is progress._

_Which is as good a segway as any, I think, to say thank you. Thank you to all those emailing in with evidence, articles, photographs, and credible leads that can help us get somewhere. It’s also a good segway to lend a sincere, genuine, and honest_ **_fuck you_ ** _to those that are treating this as a joke. Of course, we expected a level of trollery to come into this, but know that I’m pretty good at sniffing out bullshit. Any of you who are thinking that you’re sending myself and my team on a wild goose chase - you aren't. You’re just getting yourself deleted and laughed at your attempt. So. There’s that._

_A lot has happened since the last episode. I have to say, after years of writing for several major publications, researching high profile cases, and weeding out sources all on my own - this has been the most effective way of receiving information that I have ever used. As many of you know, I went into this podcast with deliciously low expectations. But the reaction has been enormous and in turn, we are moving along faster than I’d expected._

_With that being said, we appreciate the ratings and comments that we’ve received on every episode and audio addition. Your contributions on iTunes and Spotify have been what’s kept us not only on the Top Charts, but our relevancy high, which is most important in such a case as this. Tell your friends, your coworkers, your family. Get people involved. You never know who might know something._

_Fortunately, that’s something I’ve learned in this episode. And without any further delay, that’s where we’ll start._

-

When Neil found himself entering Matt's apartment building and nodding to the person at the front desk, he tried not to dwell on how normal it all felt. Pressing the button to the elevator, looking at the same painting that may or may not have been a genuine Mondrian (probably, judging by the money in this place), and waiting for the familiar ding of arrival to bounce in his head. It all felt familiar and comforting in this odd way. Neil convinced himself it was just because of the security. Being inside this High Rise modern Fort Knox with security milling around at all times, made him felt safe and that’s all this _feeling_ was.

His mother would have called it a trap.

As he walked into the apartment using his own key, he was automatically hit in the face with the smell of cooking cheese and the sound of Matt’s voice on the phone.

“Just tell him he’ll have to wait a few days,” Matt was saying. “I know who he is and that’s great for him, but I’ve already got like 10 other interviews booked about the stupid record and I don’t have time to just squeeze him in.”

Neil walked into the kitchen to see Matt leaning on the stove looking annoyed. He brightened at the sight of Neil and waved him over.

“Yeah, that should be fine. He just has to get in the back of the line,” Matt rolled his eyes at Neil. “Sounds good. Text me the details.” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the counter.

Neil raised a brow as he tried to calmly seat himself in his _usual_ spot at the island.

_Fucked._

“Sorry, man. My fucking agent trying my life right now. You hungry? I’m making lasagna.”

Neil blinked at him. Matt was holding a spatula in one hand and wearing a white apron, all while the kitchen was suspiciously clean. “Did you...cook?”

Matt’s eyes widened quickly and then he grinned, on the brink of a laugh as he shook his head, “No! Not really, but I like to get in the mood you know?” He gestured towards himself. “There’s this old lady named Mrs. Rehwinkle who likes to give me food and pat my cheek.”

Neil didn’t know how anyone could even _reach_ Matt’s cheek. Let alone a little old lady. Matt was easily 6’4, 6’5.

“She made us a lasagna, so I just popped it in the oven. It’s almost done heating, I think.” Matt opened the oven and peaked in. “Cheese is bubbly as fuck, my guy. Don’t tell my dietician.” Matt winked over his shoulder.

Neil couldn't help but grin back. That was the thing about Matt. His perpetual optimism was both annoying and infectious. Neil tried really hard to stay inside his head and remain consistently grumpy as a defense mechanism. People tended to avoid you if they thought you were an asshole off the bat. That’s how he had avoided most personal interaction with - well, she wasn’t important.

_You’re fucked._

Matt was not people though, apparently. He was warm and he never stopped smiling. He was kind and he was so unbelievably giving and honestly, Matt Boyd was just a big fucking idiot because of it.

“Why the apron and the spatula if you didn’t do any actual cooking?” Neil leaned forward and plucked an orange from the bowl on the counter.

Matt shrugged. “Getting in the spirit. Plus, I look really good in this apron.” He paused and waved the spatula at Neil, “You gonna eat that? It’ll ruin your appetite! Eat some fucking protein, man. You’re too fucking skinny.”

Neil took the last of the peel from the orange and popped a piece in his mouth. “This orange won’t be the thing that kills me.”

 _Trust me_.

“So,” Neil changed the subject. “Why is your agent trying your life right now?”

Matt sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He put mitts on before opening the oven and moving to take out the lasagna. “I kind of broke a record recently. Most blocked attempts by a Backliner? It’s really not a big deal.”

“The fuck it isn't-” Neil started. Because it _was_ a bit deal and Neil knew it.

The one thing he’d never been able to fully let go of while on the run was Exy. His mother would box his ears every time she caught him looking at anything related to it. He didn’t even really know why. It’s not like he was playing. He supposed she didn’t want him to get himself noticed if he were lingering somewhere too long. Later on, of course, he’d found out why but at that point it was long gone and nothing was ever set in stone.

Anyway.

“Anyway,” Matt continued, looking for something to cut the lasagna with. “I’ve had to do all this press for it and apparently Kevin Day has been harassing my agent to get an interview. He used to pl-”

“I know who he is,” Neil said quickly.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

It was back again. The tingling, the heart racing, the shortness of breath. Neil tried to will it away, to swallow down the bile rising in his throat with the growing numbness in his body as he forced himself to keep a blank face.

Kevin meant nothing to him anymore. _Nothing._ He was six the last time he’d seen him. And even though he’d know Kevin if he saw him in the street, that didn’t mean that Kevin would know _him_ . And it wasn’t even from their upbringing or anything. No. _Neil_ would only recognize _Number 2_ because he’d somewhat followed his doomed Exy career. There was no reason to panic.

_No fucking reason._

“Neil?” He snapped his eyes up to Matt and willed his racing pulse to slow. “You okay? You look pale.”

“Hm?” Neil started, then shook his head and tried to force a smile, “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about...Kevin Day. Why would he want an interview with you?” Neil was digging his fingers into his orange and he hadn’t even noticed. It was bleeding juice all over his hand and Matt furrowed a brow before handing him a paper towel.

“He has an exy podcast now,” Matt said slowly, digging out forks from a drawer and sliding a plate of steaming lasagna in front of Neil. “Pretty popular, too. So he wants me on for an interview.”

Neil nodded silently and shoved a forkful  in his mouth.

It tasted like ash.

-

_If you have not listened to the Audio Notes from last week, I highly recommend going there first, before continuing forward. Don’t skip any of our releases and try to stay updated on our website to do so. For example, last week, we posted a comprehensive Timeline that illustrates where we are so far. It’s complete with interviews, outside information not yet mentioned in the podcast, and quote unquote “facts” that to the public, should be common knowledge. We’ll be updating it with every confirmed lead we get. I highly recommend pulling that up while you listening, as it plots where we’ll be going._

_Additionally, the Audio Notes are very important and act as a prelude for each coming episode. I say this because last episode we ended with the mention of the very blonde, very rich, unbelievably stuck up, and entitled heiress, Allison Reynolds._

**_Allison Reynolds:_ **

_Which is me. Hi everyone, my name is Allison Reynolds and I am proudly, every single thing Minyard has called me. I’m also 28, a fashion designer, personal stylist, influencer, and CEO. I graduated from Cornell with a degree in fashion and_ _designed my own clothing line_ _. I am an heiress to Reynolds, Inc, but unlike what most would think, I went completely against the grain of my family and decided to make money on my own. I don’t use my daddy’s credit card, I didn’t receive a small loan of 1 million dollars, but I’d be dishonest if I didn’t say my father's name helped my success. Nonetheless, I-_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Anyway._

_She’d been following me for the better part of a month. Getting hold of not only my business email, but my personal one as well - in addition to my phone number. She texted me, called me, emailed me, harassed me until she got so fed up with the idea of rejection, that she showed up in my office two weeks ago with bold claims and quite literally nothing but her money and a fucking grill to show for it._

_Here’s our first interview._

-

The next day, Neil sucked up his anxiety and finally went for a run in Central Park. For the past few weeks, he’d been staring at it. At the vast stretch of manufactured green that had been calling him from Matt’s windows. He thought about going down there several times, but each one he’d convinced himself that it was too much of a danger.

Maybe it was his anxiety, maybe it was him forcing himself to do something his mind didn’t want him to do, but he slipped on his beat-up shoes, a comfortable pair of shorts and shirt that covered his scars, and left the apartment before it was too late to tell himself no.

 _Central Park sees tens of thousands of people a day. If there is anywhere to get lost in New York City, to remain anonymous and be able to_ **_run_ ** _, it was there._

It started fine. It was neither empty nor crowded. Filled mostly with moms and nannies with babies and other runners like himself. He never wore headphones to run, so all he heard was the _slap, slap, slap_ and the breaths in and out of his lungs. Here, he could hear no car horns or angry drivers, no police sirens or bickering pedestrians. It was, for lack of a better word, _nice_.

But.

 _It started out fine_.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He’d gotten comfortable with his discomfort as he ran the winding paths, past fountains and statues and pigeons and hundreds of breezy trees. But eventually, his eyes wandered from the path before him to look at _everyone_ and _everything_. He went into this run with an intent not to scrutinize all that was around him, but of course, that little voice in his head would come back and tell him exactly what he did not need to hear - of realities that likely weren’t even fucking there.

But that didn’t matter. Because there was a man in a hat by a tree that watched him as he ran by. A woman in a jogging suit with a stroller, her ponytail bouncing and a Bluetooth earpiece in her ear. She watched Neil as they approached each other and Neil held his breath as she passed. Then, there was a police officer talking to a person who he was _positive_ had pointed at him - and it was too much.

Neil turned around and headed back to Matt’s as fast as he could. Too many faces of people he didn’t recognize, with motives he didn’t understand and couldn’t detect. They could’ve been anyone, but they were looking at _him_ , pointing at _him_ , probably speaking of _him,_ and there were too many risks that he could not fucking take and other nonsense that he allowed to flood his mind as he ran with fire at his heels back to the apartment.

Sometimes, he was glad his mother was dead and didn’t have to keep living like this. Others, he was glad she didn’t have to see him consistently fucking fail.

Neil took a roundabout way to get back to the apartment in an effort to make sure he wasn’t followed. It was only once he was positively certain he was alone, that he entered.

-

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Talk._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ deep breath ]_

_I saw Nathaniel and Mary._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ demanding ]_

_Where and when._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_In the Keys, 2002. My family has a vacation home in Islamorada. I have a picture with them in the background._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ demanding ]_

_Show me._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_I don’t have it with me. It’s at the vacation house, in a box with some pictures. But, it’s them._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Yes. Allison Reynolds, brought up with the best education money can buy - Cornell Graduate, Fashion Mogul, Personal Stylist, previous Board Member of several major Galas and Balls - woman who had been harassing me for weeks; even going to far as to fly all the way to South Carolina to track me down and try to convince me of her story in person -_

_Didn’t have the fucking foresight to bring the fucking photograph with her._

_Which had me thinking, is this a trap? Is this just a way to promote a new line of hers or a project in need of a new audience?_

_I questioned that for a while. Because truly, it seemed unbelievable that she could be so fucking dense._

_Well, I’ve concluded - yes. She really is just that fucking stupid._

**_RENEE WALKER:_ **

_Andrew, that’s not fair..._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Our conversation carried on._

-

Once Neil was back from the park and in the safety of Matt’s apartment, he showered, he changed, he wasted time. He did his laundry and watched Exy highlights, paced the floor and felt restless.

Night was darkening the apartment. Blues and purples stretched across white surfaces, staining them with shadows and shapes that Neil took a sort of unexpected comfort in. There was also the type of settling darkness that was impossible in the city - a kind accompanied by light that polluted every facet of this place, so Neil was never fully submerged in black.

Maybe it helped the oncoming anxiety. Maybe it didn’t. He was off from cleaning the stadium tonight since the team had a meeting that would run late. He was due there in the morning, but morning was not now and all distractions had been attempted. Neil supposed he could eat, since there was nothing left to fill the growing spaces in his burgeoning mind, so he went about reheating the leftover lasagna.

10PM was creeping upon him. He knew because as he ate, he stared blankly at the clock above the stove. His mind really stood testament to the effort he was putting into not thinking about anything of importance. He kept it going for a good part of the day after his run, and only now was his composure _finally_ cracking as the fork lifted to mouth and lasagna slid off to splatter back down onto the plate.

 _Andrew Minyard really has some fucking nerve_.

Making a podcast, pretending it was all to find justice for this missing mother and her fucking son. Who did he think he was?

 _A Columbia graduate, oh ho ho isn’t he just so fucking_ **_smart_ **.

Really fucking stupid if you asked Neil.

He’d listened to the podcast when it came out a few nights ago and he wanted to laugh at how wrong some of the shit he said was.

Because that’s all he really could do, right? Laugh?

If he didn’t laugh, he’d cry. And if he didn’t cry, he’d scream. And the cycle would go on with other verbs and bullshit that he didn’t care to think about. So instead, he picked up the piece of lasagna that had fallen off his fork, blinked at the time ticking on the stove clock, and let the things he _would_ have hypothetically laughed at if he _could_ , breeze through his mind for the millionth time.

Andrew had talked about Leakin Park in a voice filled with such dread and morbidity. It was a fucking joke. For someone so smart, so accomplished and acclaimed, you’d think he’d know.

_You don’t shit where you eat, Minyard._

His father was not stupid. There was no way he would’ve hidden bodies there. Neil had only been six when he and his mother had fled, but he still knew that much just from talking to her.

_Besides. There were no bodies to find if there was nothing of the bodies left._

Then, hearing someone describe the house that had been his own personal hell for six years as a ‘ _family home_ ’, even if he didn’t necessarily mean it that way, had set Neil’s teeth on edge.

He did laugh when one asshole said, ‘ _Poor kid probably didn’t have markers’_. That wasn’t the case. Neil had every marker. He had markers and crayons and colored pencils and an easel and a little smock to paint in. In fact, he had everything a kid could ever want. Because if he didn’t, in a family with so much money, that would raise red flags.

Growing up, he thought maybe all the _things_ were his mother's attempt to make up for the horrors that his father had committed. All the abuse and the fear...but now, looking back, he didn’t know if that was true. Guilt may have driven her to many things - it most certainly drove her to run with him, he was sure - but to soften his father’s blows? To sooth the scars that ran deep into his skin and psyche, unable to ever heal? He didn’t know. Her driving force may very well have been to just keep up the facade. Because Neil was never really allowed to _play_. Not like normal children, at least.

In the end, nothing Andrew spoke of was anything he didn’t already know from listening to the Audio Notes. He did however, realize that he was going to have to keep track of this now. No matter the pain, no matter the mental exhaustion and nightmares that followed, he was going to have to search for his own clues to try and suss out where Minyard was. He had to attempt to stay ahead of him. That was literally imperative to his survival now that he knew Frankie was gone, the feds were sniffing around, and Minyard was flying too close for comfort.

Neil finished his lasagna, put his plate in the dishwasher, and pulled out Matt’s laptop.

The very first post on the RR page, posted at 9:42PM, was totally, utterly and completely uncalled for. Andrew said they’d be posted in the podcast, but he guessed he just assumed that the impact wouldn’t be as strong. However, seeing his father’s basement hit him so hard he could scarcely breathe.

They were dark, and when Neil closed his eyes to block them out, he could _smell_ the must and the metallic twinge of blood. The checkered floors were more familiar than anything else. More than the stairs, or the table where bodies had been stretched across - the sink where the water always ran red. No, the checkered floors were plastered behind his eyelids. When he was little, he used to stare at them, at the blood running into the grout, trying to distract himself from his father looming above.

But that never worked. Because his father would kneel down, place his hand on his shoulder and squeeze so hard Nathaniel could feel his bones creak. With his other hand, he’d tilt Nathaniel’s head so he could see their mirrored eyes and say with breath warm on Nathaniel’s face, “ _You will be my legacy”._

 _What a legacy I’ve become_.

At some point, Neil sat back on the couch. The laptop lay abandoned on the coffee table as Neil bowed his head and plunged his fingers into his hair. He pulled and pulled, just like his mom would do. And when that didn’t work, pushed his fingers roughly through knots and tangles to the nape where his hair was shorter. His fingers grappled until they gripped, and he pulled there too. And pulled, and _pulled, and pulled._

 _Stop it, Abram. Don’t be a fool_.

But he couldn’t. Not this time. He hadn’t fought it in the ally, but he fought it now. Now it was not garbage and trash filling his nose, now it was the smell of blood and fear and -

He did need to stop. He couldn’t do this. Not here, not in this place. But it was coming, regardless. Numb fingers and numb lips - he was going to empty his stomach all over Matt’s nice white rug.

_Breathe, breathe, breathe_

_“Neil!”_

He was shaking, or maybe he was being shaken. He lashed out blindly and connected with something. The impact made things a little less fuzzy, a little less like his head hadn’t been dunked under water and his father's grip on the back of his head wasn’t pushing him _deeper and deeper and deeper and -_

Someone was cursing.

Neil was on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He couldn’t remember how he got there, but his body was curled tight around itself, with one hand still in his hair and the other lashing out blindly at whatever was trying to attack him.

“Neil! It’s me! It’s Matt! Come on, man. I think you’re having a panic attack or something.” Neil still couldn’t breathe. And though his father’s grip was almost gone, Matt still sounded like he was underwater.

_Matt._

Neil lifted his head slowly and blinked a few times. Slowly, his fingers unlatched themselves from the hair at the back of his neck as Matt’s face swam into view. His other arm dropped into the soft white carpet.

Matt slowly sat back on his heels like he was afraid to get too close and then turned to look at the computer. He cocked his head and furrowed his brows. The pictures of the basement were still up.

“No...” Neil managed, weakly. He tried to sit up, but Matt closed the computer before leaning forward again with an offering hand.

“Hey, hey. Slow down. Are you okay?” Matt asked, eyes full of concern. That offering hand placed itself on Neil’s shoulder. It was steadying and grounding and Neil didn’t understand why.

“M’fine,” Neil mumbled and Matt rolled his eyes. “I just...I have anxiety.”

“No shit. I know what a panic attack looks like. What set you off? Was it the pictures on the Red Rabbits website?” Matt glanced back towards the computer and Neil swallowed.

_Be smart._

“No, no. It just...happens sometimes. I’m sorry, I’m fine...really.” Neil sat up on his own then, waving Matt away as if to prove his point.

He wasn’t sure it entirely worked.

Though Matt leaned away again, his eyes were carefully watching Neil. There were no calculation behind his eyes or really any overt assumptions. But they were steady and soft, concerned and well - just as grounding as his hand had been.

“Does it happen a lot?” Matt asked, voice low.

“Just sometimes,” Neil managed to shrug. He turned his head away. He didn’t know how to properly evade this, but Matt seemed to...get it?

After eying him for a minute, he nodded and said, “Go take a shower and get some sleep. And for fucks sake, eat some fucking protein...” He stood and held out a hand. Neil, surprisingly, took it without real thought and something within him was glad for the help.

-

_-Interview-_

**_DAN WILDS:_ **

_Fine. It’s true. Why would this one sighting make you want to come all this way and demand to be listened to - without the actual picture._

_[ tapping of pen on paper ]_

**_DAN:_ **

_Why would you want to fund this entire podcast, based off one thing that happened when you were a kid?_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ interjecting ]_

_Why would you buy me a Maserati? Not that I’m complaining._

**_DAN:_ **

_[ shocked ]_

_Excuse me?! You bought him a fucking Maserati?!_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ self-satisfied ]_

_Sure did._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Okay. I feel as though I should explain myself for integrity’s sake._

_So, Monday morning, the 22 of April, I may have pulled into TFN to see a shiny new Maserati sitting in the parking lot. It may have been the exact car that I had teased about on our website, just to piss Allison off - make her believe those were my terms. Perhaps an oversight on my part, but in my defense, I didn’t think she’d actually go and buy it. Because it’s a fucking Mas and no one should really have that kind of extra cash on hand._

_But alas, yes. I now have a new car. Allison did buy it for me. And I’m not going to fucking hide it, or make excuses, or cover it up. Allison Jamaica Reynolds bought me a Maserati just for the chance to have a single conversation. It wasn’t to take her on or accept her sponsorship. Just to hear her speak, because I’d refused for weeks._

_I didn’t trust her. Not completely._

_And I still don’t. Even after all that’s happened._

_But, if she wants to drop serious cash just to fucking talk? Fine._

_The way I see it, this is just a downpayment for dealing with her._

_And you know what? It worked out._

_-_

_-Interview-_

**_RENEE:_ **

_[ slowly ]_

_Andrew, that’s not ethical. It goes against -_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_And now look. We’re all here, actually talking about this shit instead of everyone but Seth trying to pretend I’m not here._

**_SETH GORDON:_ **

_I got you, Queen._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ groan ]_

_Ugh. I hate a man who thinks they need to tell me what I already know. How boring._

_Look._

_[ pause ]_

_I’ve been telling people this for years and they either don’t believe me or don’t give a shit. I know what I fucking saw. That kid looked miserable and the lady looked fucking insane. I want to be able to prove it._

_[ pause ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_So, you’re doing this for vindication? So that everyone knows you’re not crazy._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_On the nose, Sweetheart._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_That’s something I can get behind._

_Growing up, no one believed a word I said. It wasn’t until certain people came into my life that my words started holding weight. It took a while, for a trust to build and for others to start seeing me as more than just...well. If you keep up on the website, you know how most of the team views me._

_When I entered this field, however, that credibility started to wane. Because I’m not nice and I don't hold back and when I speak. I perhaps don't emote enough, but my words are true. I know how I come off. I know how people view me. I know that my methods are questionable and that people are shocked when I give a fuck about other people's lives - like fighting for justice when it comes to children in foster care or trying to find a missing mother and son._

_I understand the want for vindication. To rub your accomplishments in the faces of those who doubt you._

_And though that is not my driving force here, I get it._

_If that’s the only thing driving Allison fucking Reynolds to help me? That’s fine. Because I believe the want to prove people wrong, much more than I believe in the goodness of people’s hearts._

-

The next day, Neil had to be at the stadium twice - once in the morning to clean up from the night before, and again that night to clean up after today's practice.

He was the last one there that night, as he usually was. Neil was used to being alone, living in solitude and left for his own thoughts. But really, he just liked to linger on the court and locker rooms. Jerry didn’t mind.

Neil was just finishing up and getting ready to leave when he heard the door to the locker room open and his heart very nearly jumped out of his fucking chest.

“Neil?” For a man so fucking large, he moved so fucking silent. It was Matt, of course, and Neil was left with his heart beating against his ribcage.

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” he said, coming around the corner. “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here?”

Matt held up his hands and smiled that big dumb smile. “Sorry, sorry. I just know you’re always here later than everyone else and I thought you could use some fun.”

_Fun?_

“Fun?” Neil didn’t do _fun_.

Fun was not on the list, nor was it necessary for survival. Then again, neither was sitting on the court and imagining a life that would never be...

“Yeah, fun,” Matt’s smile dimmed just a little as he looked at Neil seriously. “I know you’ve been having a hard time.” He held up his hands in small surrender, “I don’t know what your story is, but I want to help. And I just so happen to know that you’re Exy obsessed - No,” he said as Neil opened his mouth to argue. “I’ve seen you. Watching replays over and over and on this court. Neil. I’ve seen you out there when you think no one is looking.”

Neil suddenly felt very exposed. Exy was a weakness. It was something he’d held on to all these years - something he felt guilty about indulging in when his mother had always been so adamant about leaving it behind...but Matt was not wrong. He loved Exy, he loved the thrill of the game and the energy of the fans. He loved watching backliners push back the strikers and he loved watching the goalies dive for a save. He also loved those strikers - watching them run and spin and dodge out of the way, just to get to the goal.

_He loved, he loved he loved -_

He _was_ Exy obsessed. And for just a moment, he hated Matt for seeing it.

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything. Come on. Lets go ho- to your place. Let’s go back to your place.”

 _Stupid_.

Matt took a step closer to Neil and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at him with a smirk that made Neil very nervous.

“Wouldn’t you rather play first?”

Neil’s heart seized. “What?”

_No, Nathaniel._

“Come on,” Matt said. He moved down to a locker at the end of the row and opened it up. Haphazardly, he started taking out gear and throwing it to Neil who did his best to catch them as they flew towards his head.

“You want to play? With me? On the court...?” Neil asked, staring down at the padding and protection in his arms in disbelief. His mother was buzzing in his ear, flying by and impossible to swat away as he shrugged his shoulders to try and block her out. When that didn’t work, her voice invaded his head, screaming to

_Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached._

But fuck, it was far too late for that.

“Yep. Change. I’ll help you with the gear.” Neil backed up as Matt came towards him.

“No, it’s fine. I can manage. I used to play...when I was younger.” No way was he letting Matt help him with the pads. His scars would raise even more questions in Matt’s mind and if he was being truthful with himself, he just really fucking hated them.

Locking himself in the bathroom stall, he started the process of getting the padding in order in such a small space.

Neil hadn’t been lying when he said he used to play. He _did_. Once when he was younger, for a little league team when he was only a child. He was supposed to play for years after that in the school he attended, but didn’t get the chance. Then, after his mother died and he had to leave her behind in California, he made his way to Arizona. They’d been there before, but there was something about the place - something about their time there that made him want to go back for even just a little while.

He ended up in a small forgettable town called Millport and played Exy in his ‘senior’ year under another false name. His mother’s voice inside his head was relentless then. She must have been rolling around in her fresh, sandy grave.

_Maybe even more than she was now -_

He played as a Backliner in little league, but a striker for the Millport Dingos.

He wasn’t bad. Truly.

And he loved every second of it.

Which was why he couldn’t have it.

Exy was a dream for another kid, another time, another name, and family, and history.

Neil managed to get undressed and put the shoulder pads on. It was like muscle memory. He hadn’t done this in eight years, but he still remembered the feel and the movements. He left the stall once he had his shirt on and proceeded to gear up the rest of the way.

Once Neil was ready, he moved awkwardly to the court. The pads weren’t quite his size and took some getting used to after so long without them. After the first five minutes though, he felt comfortable enough to warm up a little and jog around the court with Matt.

“Okay, so this is just a fun scrimmage. I know you haven’t done this in a while, so don’t worry about rules or how you’re playing.” He waited for Neil to nod in the affirmative, before jogging to place in front of the goal box. “Okay,” Matt said, signature manic grin curving into place. “Come at me, bro.”

_Don’t you dare, Nathaniel._

Neil ran.

_Nathaniel, stop._

He had a racquet in hand with the ball and he went straight for Matt before trying to feint around him. But, Matt was not a record breaker for nothing. He moved with Neil and pushed him back with a shove from the racquet he was holding in both hands. Neil _laughed_ and jogged back to his starting point.

_This is a horrible idea._

_Shut up._

He was _smiling_ . He could feel it, right there on his face and it felt strange. His cheeks twitched at the unfamiliar feeling, but he couldn’t stop - couldn’t hold it back. Neil was fucking _flying_ , both with quick feet and euphorically he was in the fucking air. He ran at Matt again and again, and he spun and twisted, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get around him.

Even then, he couldn’t find anything in him that cared. Matt was laughing and pushing and Neil was laughing and pushing and somewhere in the high, he thought this was a bit like a dance. A give and take between two people. Push, push back, push, push back - until the end. Until they were both exhausted and sweating and Neil thought he might pass out, but he still pushed.

And he finally got around him.

He swung around Matt and knocked him to the side to throw the ball in the goal. It didn’t light up, but Neil imagined it did. Somewhere, the child that had all the colors, all the markers and pencils in the world but no ability to imagine what to do with them - he saw the goal light up bright and red in his mind's eye.

It was a feeling unlike anything else.

 _You can’t have this_.

Neil raised his racquet in the air and ran around like an idiot. He, for the moment, was _happy_.

 _Impossible_.

He sank to the floor of the court, heaving for breath and bracing his arms on his knees with his head dropped between them. Beside him, Matt collapsed panting, but not nearly as winded as Neil.

“How the fuck did you get to be so quick?” Matt asked. Neil looked up at him to see him wiping sweat from his forehead.

“I run a lot,” Neil answered.

 _Not enough, it seems_.

“Yeah? Well, you would’ve made one hell of a striker.”

_Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve._

“So, did it help? The playing?” When Neil looked towards him blankly, Matt continued, “With the anxiety, I mean. Working out really hard always helps me when my mind is fucked.”

Neil thought about the answer before he spoke it out loud.

“Yeah,” he finally decided. “It helped.

-

_-Interview-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ considering ]_

_I can get behind that. Fine. Now is it just stupidity that you decided not to bring the picture with you as proof, or do you have something else up your tight sleeves?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Perhaps a bit of both._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_Welcome aboard._

_[ snap ]_

**_RENEE:_ **

_[ quiet ]_

_Andrew, you can’t keep the car._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ mumble ]_

_Like fuck, I can’t. What’s going to happen?_

_[ sarcasm ]_

_My name will be tarnished? Validity gone?_

_[ pause ]_

**_SETH:_ **

_[ background ]_

_What about me, baby? Little Monster gets a car - but really, I do most of the work._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Get yourself a sugar Daddy, baby._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ loud ]_

_Anyway. You’re paying for this mess and any extra expenses we need. We had plans to go to Florida anyway because of the Port St. Lucie and Parkland sightings, so we’ll add the Keys to the trip._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Cool. I’m coming with you. If I’m paying for this, I’m coming._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_And I agreed. It would be easier to have someone that knows the area to show us around and the appeal of an in person account of what may or may not have happened in Key West was appealing. So appealing, that I agreed to spend an extended amount of time with Reynolds._

_No one better question my dedication ever again._  

-

On Sunday, Neil found himself alone in the apartment. He debated going for a run again, but eventually decided staying in was best. Playing on the court had helped Neil with the near constant anxiety, but it was still there - lingering in the background and waiting for its next moment to strike. Neil was beginning to think there would be nothing to help it, so he stifled down any thoughts that could trigger him. He didn’t want to worry Matt any more than he already had.

After all, worrying led to questions, and questions were a thing Neil couldn’t have answers to.

It was midday, the sun had passed its highest point in the sky and was making a lazy arch over Central Park. Neil watched as it’s light crawled across the stark white carpet as he worked through yet another Sudoku book when he heard the door open and Matt walk in.

“Is it up yet?” he asked, tossing his wallet on the kitchen counter. Neil looked up at him, confused.

“Is what up?” He asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

“The Audio Notes! It’s Sunday, they’re supposed to be up.” He walked around the couch and smacked Neil’s legs to get him to sit up. Pulling his laptop towards him on the coffee table, Matt leaned forward and focused on the screen.

“I’ve no idea. I haven’t really been following it.” Matt glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He knew Matt saw the pictures of the basement - knew he realized what it was. He had no idea what Matt was thinking in regards to it, or what he thought, or figured, or surmised. But Neil was going to act like it was nothing for as long as he fucking could.

 _Idiot_.

Matt scrolled through the website and after a minute he sighed, “Ah, it’s delayed. Damn, I was really excited about it, too. I think they went to Florida this time.”

_Florida._

Neil closed his eyes for a moment. He’d forgotten, forced himself to forget. At the end of last podcast, Minyard had said they were going to Florida. He’d had a great fucking panic attack over it too - or maybe that was after...

 _Things are getting blurry_.

He could sit for a minute and think about it. Think about how frantic his mother was, how _scared_ and _confused_ he’d felt. He could think about the men following them, chasing them, running them down the coast of Florida and into the Keys before they raced back up to the other locations they’d fled to. At that time, he’d only been seven. That was two years shy of twenty years ago. He could see only snippets and snatches of sunshine; a backroom of a beach shop; the grip of his mothers hand wrapped around his arm; and that sharp, metallic taste of blood and fear.

_So familiar now._

Familiarity of then and now fell in line as he let his mind briefly wonder what the fuck Minyard could have scrounged up this time. He had no idea if the info of them being there was easily traceable or not, but if it was and Minyard got his hands on it - Neil knew what that meant. It meant that they weren’t as careful as his mother had thought. It meant that Minyard could establish a timeline, a map, and follow it. It meant that if this guy was serious, he would be able to track Neil like a fucking animal.

_Familiar._

Neil opened his eyes slowly and that whispering voice flitted back into his head - weaved it’s way through his intrusive thoughts and reminded him, _stay ahead, be smart, find the loophole_.

Matt sighed and the slide of his laptop being pushed back onto the table made Neil snap back into focus. “I’m going to go shower. Think about what you want for dinner.”

Neil gave him a nod and pulled the computer close to himself. Once he heard Matt’s bedroom door close, he began scrolling through the websites posts.

Most of it was just Andrew being an asshole and sighing posts as ‘A’, like he was some mysterious deity.

_Please._

He was a sarcastic jerk as far as Neil could tell. Besides that, he scrolled and scrolled, looking for any clue that Andrew might have any more information, when a name suddenly jumped out at him.

_Kevin._

Someone asked a question - _‘Have y’all heard of a little sport named exy?’_

Which was a terribly stupid question and one Neil thought deserved a stupid answer. But the one Andrew gave made Neil’s stomach plumett.

_‘Exy is a sport? Kevin is even more of an ass than I thought.’_

It couldn’t be...could it? No.

No.

_No, no, no._

Impossible. It was too much of a coincidence - that Kevin day, who he actually did have real contact with as a child...was friends with, or at least _knew_ Andrew Minyard. The sarcastic asshole currently spearheading a manhunt for him.

_No._

Neil kept searching because he forced himself to. He was near frantic as his eyes flew over the screen, looking for any more hints or mentions.

There was another ask about the friendship between Kevin and Andrew and Neil stopped. Opening up google in a separate tag, he searched Kevin’s name.

One of the first links that popped up was a wikipedia page. Below that was a website called Dayly Exy. It read that it was under maintenance, but there was a smiling picture of Kevin in the center with his all white teeth and number 2 tattoo nowhere in sight. Below a small description of the podcast was where he saw _it_.

_The Foxhole Network._

The same network that hosted Red Rabbits.

Neil removed his hands from the computer like he’d been burned.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Kevin would tell him. Kevin would tell him that he’d had contact with Nathaniel fucking Wesninski and why and how and the circumstances surrounding it _and, and, and_.

Neil had managed to get up somehow and was heading to his room when he ran into Matt in the hallway. Matt grabbed him by the arms to steady him and looked into his face with concern.

“Neil? You okay? You’re pale as shit.”

His normal response was at the tip of his tongue. _‘I’m fine’_ just waiting to be opened and released to excuse himself from the panic settling deep in his bones. But Neil wasn’t okay and he could feel himself slowly sinking into his black pit of despair. He _tried_ to get a hold of himself. All he needed was to get to his room so he could break down properly, so he could cry and do whatever he needed to do to come to terms with how incredibly fucked up his entire life was. But, that wasn’t going to happen because Matt turned him gently and led him to the kitchen. Neil, for some reason, allowed it to happen. Arguing wasn’t an option because he couldn’t even open his mouth.

Matt sat him at his _normal_ chair at the island and dug through a cabinet. He came back with his hand held out. “Eat it.”

Neil looked down at the thing in Matt’s hand. It looked like chocolate. Neil stared at it in confusion for a few seconds.

 _“Eat it_ ,” Matt said again. “It’s dark chocolate. It’s supposed to help with anxiety. Just try it,” he started to unwrap the chocolate and held out the bar by the wrapper. “Please?”

Neil didn’t like chocolate or sweets, in general, all that much. But, he took it anyway - an automatic response from a brain that was trained to take orders when it was in panic mode. He bit off a piece and chewed slowly. Matt disappeared again and came back with a glass of water.

When Neil had finished the first piece of chocolate, Matt broke off a second and by the time he had eaten that too, he felt like he had regained some semblance of control. Matt leaned forward onto the counter across from Neil and crossed his arms.

“You okay?” he asked. Neil didn’t have an answer for that besides the reality was that he had no choice but to be okay. Instead, he just nodded and Matt took that as ample enough answer as he asked, “What happened? You were fine before I left. I was gone only a few minutes. Did...did you see something? On the Red Rabbits page again?”

_No._

Neil shook his head. Probably a little too quickly, but he didn’t care. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” His voice sounded croaky and distant to his own ears. “It just happens. I’m fine.”

Matt sighed and shook his head. “Sure you are.”

_-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Now, this is where things may get confusing. If you’ve listened to the last Audio Notes, then you’d know we went from Miami, to Islamorada, then Key West, all before we made our way back up to Parkland and Port St. Lucie. But that is not the order in which we believe Mary and Nathaniel traveled._

_For this podcasts sake and for your understanding of their trajectory, we’ll be going according to the timeline. So keep up. Things may get confusing._

_We’ll start in Port St. Lucie._

_//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//_

_This was one of two mentions on the Port St. Lucie’s local TV News station, WPTV. The second was merely a repeat of the same showing._

_I’d had this clip saved for months. In fact, it was one of the first actual clips I’d gotten my hands on when I first started this investigation. I didn’t know what Florida or Port St. Lucie had to do with it at the time, nor did I know if this was actually about Mary and Nathaniel. The amount of information I’d had was limited, saved in a small folder on my desktop in Boston._

_However, when I started investigating with Renee, we took a look at websleuths.com - a website used for those interested in mainly cold cases and unsolved crimes to post updates on their own findings. Websleuths became instrumental in our research and still is, to this day. Many of the people posting there are just armchair detectives, but there are many personal investigators, as well as journalists taking up the website as well._

_That’s where Renee found Bob Roberts._

_Upon searching the Wesninski case, Bob’s name seemed to pop up quite often. He wasn’t like most of the other posters. He wasn’t trolling, or sending what usually come off as false leads. Instead, he was still looking into this case and many of the things he’d found were things that I’d already figured out._

_Renee decided to email him, find out more._

**_RENEE:_ **

_Like Andrew said, he seemed credible. We’d shared several emails back and forth and he said that he used to be a freelance journalist. The Wesninski case was only a small part of his career, but something that had still bothered him to this day. Upon looking him up, everything he shared seemed to be true and checked out._

_Therefore, our next step was to set up an interview. This worked out perfectly in accordance to our Florida trip and another interview we had planned, so Andrew gave the go ahead._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_He was good. Despite his interest in our podcast, and despite the fact that his name was Robert Roberts, he had valuable information that both raises and answers several of our questions._

_Here’s that interview:_

**_RENEE:_ **

_Saturday, April 27, 2019._

_Port St. Lucie, Florida._

_[ restaurant noise ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_First, what’s your name and how do you spell it?_

**_BOB ROBERTS:_ **

_Bob Roberts - B O B, R O B E R T S_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_What can you tell us, Bob?_

**_BOB:_ **

_We think they came from Orlando. They drove to Port St. Lucie in a rental car that they ditched as soon as they got here._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Now, we’re going out of order, but if you listened to the Audio Notes, you heard in one of our other interviews, from a journalist for Local 10 News named Sarah Johnson, that Nathaniel and Mary may have taken a rental car from Orlando._

_That was the first time we’d heard of it. However, her knowledge of the car and its relevance was limited. It’s honestly not worth going over when Bob has more information on that, which you will hear soon._

_What she did say, what did stick out to us more than anything in that entire interview, was her recounting of the report of Mary and Nathaniel’s sighting._

_For the sake of relevancy, and understanding - here is that interview from Parkland. Our second location on the timeline of Mary and Nathaniel’s journey through Florida._

_-_

**_RENEE:_ **

_Friday April 26, 2019_

_Parkland, Florida_

_[ cafe noise ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_First, what’s your name and how do you spell it?_

**_SARAH JOHNSON:_ **

_Sarah Johnson - S A R A H, J O H N S O N_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_What can you tell me about this case? The mother and son you reported on in 2002?_

**_SARAH:_ **

_Not much, honestly. We got the report from Port St. Lucie. They were there before and were traced here - to Parkland. We know the child had red hair and blue eyes, around seven years old. Port St. Lucie gave us the names, Mary and Nathaniel Abrams._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Bear with me for a moment. That is probably the most important information we heard from Sarah. Bob repeated it later, as well as the rest of our interview with Sarah, but this was the first time we’d heard of the use of that name._

_Mary and Nathaniel Abrams - not Wesninski. Abrams._

_It stood out to us. Why?_

_Because Nathaniel’s full name is Nathaniel Abram Wesninski._

_Was this a way to cover their tracks? An attempt to hide in plain sight? Or was it a name given to the police._

_I find it hard to believe Mary would announce her name for the world to know - especially while they’re on the run. So what does it mean?_

_Just one name in a long list of possible pseudonyms? Or... something else?_

_Jumping back to our interview with Bob in Port St. Lucie, now that we have context, here might be the start to an answer._

_-_

**_BOB:_ **

_[ deep breath ]_

_Anyway, no one knew who they were, of course. But, local PD got a call from someone claiming that Mary and Nathaniel Abrams were here._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Someone._

_Why would Mary call local PD to spread her own whereabouts, with her son’s middle name?_

_Was this a taunt? A threat that they were being followed? Watched? That someone knew where they were?_

_That may be it. Bookmark this in your head. We’ll touch on it again later on._

_For now, none of this occurred to me until a few days ago, upon relistening to our notes. Which is why I didn’t question it and instead focused on Orlando._

_-_

_-Interview-_

**_BOB:_ **

_We have no real idea of what tipped this person off to their whereabouts._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Why Orlando?_

**_BOB:_ **

_We were able to locate the rental car they drove down and it’s registered ‘home’ was the Orlando International Airport. We don’t know where they were before that._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_Did anyone physically see them?_

**_BOB:_ **

_Yes._

_[ papers rustling. Background noise ]_

_Here are the interviews we have of the sightings. There are only a few, but they seem pretty reliable. The descriptions match, at least._

-

Neil was making his way home from cleaning the stadium on Tuesday when his phone rang. His body jumped just a little, but he hid it well as he quickly fished in his pocket and glanced at the screen. No one ever called him - there was no one _to_ call him. Not even Matt, usually. But alas. Matt’s name lit up on the screen with an incoming call.

Neil could ignore him. Pocket his phone and find out what he needed when he got ho- to Matt’s apartment. But the possibility that it had something to do with Neil, like someone showing up at Matt’s door, or, _or or or_

He answered it, just in case.

“Hey! You on your way home?”

“Yeah, why? What’s up? You need me to pick something up?” Neil was coming up on a bodega they usually frequented when they needed something fast (or a chopped cheese).

“No, just checking,” Neil could hear the smile in his voice and he was immediately on edge. “I’ll see you soon!”

 _He has someone there,_ Neil thought. _He has someone there and they’re going to recognize me._

_Run._

_No._

He could do it though. Turn around, hop on the subway, and go somewhere that wasn’t Matt’s apartment. But that wasn’t thinking smart. No. Matt’s place was the safest space for him to be in and all of his _stuff_ was still there.

So, he made his way in the building, up the elevator, to Matt’s door.

Once inside, he made his way into the living room with his heart beating out of his chest. The only thing that kept his feet moving forward and not to his room to grab his shit and get the fuck out of there, was the fact that he didn’t hear any voices. Instead, he found Matt standing there, grinning ear to ear.

There _was_ someone, or something, in the room with him. But it wasn’t a person.

“You got a cat?” Neil asked. It was a fat, gray tabby with green eyes and an unimpressed stare.

“Yeah, I thought she’d be good company for...us. Her name is Sir,”

_Sir?_

“-and just, ugh. Neil, look at her -” Matt rubbed his face into her fur, then lifted to put her on his hip as one would do with a baby. “And look at all this shit I have for her.”

Sir apparently came with a number of items. Cat carrier, cat bed, cat toys, cat tree, cat bowls, cat food, _cat, cat, cat._ Neil just nodded along stoically as Matt set her on the ground. Sir came up to him, sniffing along and then attempted to rub up against his legs.

Neil didn’t have a fondness for animals. He never got attached, because he knew better, and by now, attachment was something his mother _advised_ against.

_Yeah. Sure._

It wasn’t hard, however, to stretch his mind back to remember a time when he was very small, maybe 5, and he had a pet rabbit. He loved that rabbit. It’s name was Spiderman and it was brown and soft - another one of his mother’s attempts to make up for all of the abuse from his father (or, another attempt to conceal the life they lived with the guise of another).

One day, he came home from school and made his way up to his room. His father was sitting on his bed with Spiderman in his hands. Neil was only 5 at the time, but he remembered it so clearly. Remembered stopping dead in the doorway and watching as his father slowly stroked the rabbit from head to tail.

 _He’d never been that gentle with me_.

He’d asked Nathaniel how school was and when Nathaniel said fine, he squeezed the rabbit until Nathaniel could hear it squeak.

_‘Then why did your teacher call here to ask about a bruise on your arm?’_

His father did not kill Spiderman. He didn’t even hit Nathaniel that day. He didn’t have to. The threat was clear, even to his 5 year old self.

Nathaniel let Spiderman go into the woods behind his house the next day. He’d held him gently, as gently as could be. He felt his soft fur and wondered, in his young mind, if this would be the last time he would ever feel something so soft again.

Ever since then, he’d been wary of animals. Not because his father was around, able to threaten to do... _whatever_ he’d intended to do to that rabbit. But because there was a small part of Nathaniel that feared for a long time if that gentleness he had learned with his pet rabbit was something he’d lost in the years he’d been on the run.

“She’s already trained and everything,” Matt was saying when Neil came back to himself. Matt pulled Sir back into his lap from his spot that he’d taken up on the floor. “Come pet her, she’s really sweet.”

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” Neil escaped to his room as quickly as he could and he tried to ignore the look of disappointment that flashed across Matt’s face. What had he expected to happen? For Neil to become best friends with the cat or something?

He didn’t come out until Matt yelled from down the hall that he was hungry and ordering pizza. The smell of food drove him into the kitchen and Matt pushed a slice of cheese his way. The fact that Matt knew him well enough to know that he hated vegetables on his pizza made Neil squirm.

Matt made his way to the couch with a plate and Neil followed. They sat and Matt found Exy highlights for Neil on the tv, before opening his laptop. Neil knew he was checking for the Audio Notes that were supposed to be released on Sunday.

“Ah,” Matt said between a bite, “Andrew posted that they’ve all been sick.”

Neil hummed in response and kept his eyes glued on the TV. His heart sped like it always did when this subject came up, but Neil was glad that they weren’t out yet. That was more bullshit he didn’t want to deal with.

_Loophole, Nathaniel. Loophole._

Neil shut out the voice in his head when Matt said, “Oh shit. Dan’s sick,” leaning closer to the computer like that would give him more answers.

“Who?”

“Dan. Dan Wilds. The director. Remember? The gorgeous woman with the braids? I hope she’s okay...”

Ah. Yes. Neil rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Yeah...yeah you’re right. She’s probably fine.” Matt stared at the computer, tapping his fingers on the keys, but not actually typing.

_Great._

Neil sighed. “What, Matt?”

There was a moment of silence, before he said, “Maybe I could send her flowers? You know, as a get well soon.”

_NO._

Neil dropped his pizza in his lap. “No.” he said firmly, picking up the pizza and trying to clean up the grease with less firm hands.

“But I mean, think about it. What better way to get in the door, you know? She’d know I was a fan of her work _and_ that I’m a fucking amazing guy.”

_NO._

“Matt, _no._ ” Neil could only stare at him in horror as he pushed at Sir who had jumped in his slightly grease-stained lap, but she didn’t seem to want to move. Laying down, she purred deeply. Neil gave up with a groan and put his plate aside. “She’ll think you’re a stalker. She’ll be like, ‘ _Wow what a crazy stalker sending me flowers when I don’t even know him. Athletes are such assholes.’_ ”

Matt chewed his lip, eyes still set on the screen. With a loud forlorn sigh, he mumbled, “You’re right.”

Neil let out his own sigh of relief and decided to try again to push Sir off his lap. She stood up with a waving tail and took up Matt’s instead.

“I’m just obsessing I guess. I don’t even know why...” His voice was so quiet, so distant as he tapped his pointer finger on his laptop, Dan Wilds face smiling back at him.

Neil rolled his eyes once more and stood to get a new slice.

-

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_He was good. He was really fucking good. The interviews he gave us were short and didn’t say much. But from Bob and Sarah alone, pairing with what we’d found in the Keys - we were well on our way to piecing together the early years of this timeline._

_Speaking of the Keys. It’s time to jump to the first leg of our trip and the last known sightings of Mary and Nathaniel in Florida._

_[ Interlude Music ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Reynolds, Renee, and myself stopped in Islamorada, at Reynolds family vacation home first so she could look for the apparent photograph._

_The house wasn’t ostentatious, like many of the homes we’d passed in the Keys and especially Miami. But it had a homey feel that one would attribute to New England, rather than the typical Florida style. Without the boxy, sturdy structure, the outside was made of seashell walls and navy furnishings. It was nice to be honest - despite the heat and the fact that it was Allison’s. It also raised many questions as to how the hell it lasted several hurricanes, the latest of which still bore its destruction the Florida Keys coastlines._

_A private beach stretched in the backyard, with a pool overlooking the waves that crashed in the background._

_[ Waves in the background, low and soft ]_

_We were to stay there for one day and head to Key West early the next morning to retrace Reynold’s supposed steps._

_It took several hours before the photograph was found. In that time, I retreated to the bedroom I would be staying in and thought about what would happen if Reynolds was lying._

_The first thing I thought, was that I was definitely keeping the Maserati._

_The second, was of the time wasted coming here._

_I didn’t have any real space to think of the possibilities of her telling the truth, however. Because after letting the exhaustion take over, Renee was knocking at the door, and letting me know that the photograph had been found._

_-_

_[ Interlude Music ]_

_-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_There was always the possibility that this was all just a lie. I think my mind wanted to believe that - wanted to believe that Reynolds was just some stuck up, rich bitch, with nothing to really show for this investigation but a small lead and money to go around._

_But this was big. Bigger than the family photo, bigger than ‘don’t Be Bad’, bigger than the basement and the house - because in the grand scheme of things, those were all before and this was proof of an after. It wasn’t just words or supposed sightings, this was real and it was tangible, and it was in my fucking hands._

_The photograph was of Allison and three other girls looking towards a camera with peace signs and wide smiles. It was clearly 2002, shown by young Allison sans-grills and blonde hair, instead with permed bangs and early 2000 clothes. They were standing in the middle of a road. The sun was shining directly down, perhaps midday, and they were clearly in Key West, with its iconic buildings and tourists milling around._

_None of that was important though. Because behind Allison’s head, and to the right, was a woman dragging a young boy behind her._

_She had dirty blond hair, a bag on her shoulder, and a white shirt. Her face was turned down and away from the camera, instead looking to the boy she had gripped by the arm._

_The boy._

_Who’s hair shone red in the sun and piercing blue eyes focused straight towards the camera, just as they had in the family portrait. He looked only a little older, but he was still small. Though the photo was slightly blurry, there was no denying it._

_Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski were in fact the people in this photograph. And Allison had not been lying._

_[ Pause ]_

_I had so many questions. All of them were piling on top of each other in my head, and I didn’t know which to ask first._

_Renee, I think she could see it._

_So we broke for dinner._

**_RENEE:_ **

_I wanted to give you time to sort through your head. I could see the questions. You were ready to pounce. But I knew that the result you’d get from that, wouldn’t be the one you wanted._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_You were right._

_Because when we got back from dinner, I was ready._

_We sat on Reynolds back porch. Night stretched above and the breeze was calming, comforting. All I wanted was to drill the answers out of her. I could nearly feel myself jumping out of my fucking skin._

_But I waited, set up the recorder, and the result was worth it._

_Here’s that interview._

_-_

_[ background noise. Waves crashing. ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Andrew Minyard, interviewing Allison Reynolds. April 24, 2019 - 7:21PM._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Allison Reynolds, fashion designer and bad bitch. Twenty-eight years old with skin as if she were eighteen. Rich beyond measure._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_[ tight ]_

_Thank you, your highness. Tell me your story. You say you saw Mary and Nathaniel in Key West, 2002. You would’ve been eleven years old. What happened?_

_[ pause. Background noise ]_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_I had three friends with me here that year -_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Here as in the Keys, correct?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Yes. I had three friends with me here in the Keys. We always stay here, at my family’s home in Islamorada - but we would go to Key West for the fun, touristy shops. So, it was me, three friends, and my au pair. We were in one of the shops that sold jewelry and trinkets - you know, the kind you find at every beach shop. Puca shells, hemp necklaces, etc etc. Anyway -_

_[ deep breath ]_

_My friends were in one corner, looking at this display of really hideous butterfly clips. I was on the other side, looking at some bracelets that were on a spinning display. But, when I tried to turn it, it wouldn’t move. So, I looked to the other side and there was a boy there._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Can you describe him for us? His appearance, his demeanor?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_He was small, like you._

_[ pause ]_

_Could’ve passed for seven, but could’ve been eight. Darkish red hair and these eyes that were just… so blue. Thick black lashes -_

_[ pause ]_

_Anyway, his skin was a few shades darker than yours and he had freckles. A real cute kid. He seemed alright when I saw him, but when I told him the bracelet in his hand would look really pretty with his eyes, you would’ve thought I just told him I killed puppies._

_[ tapping ]_

_His mom must’ve seen us talking. She marched over and yanked him out by the arm - told him he wasn't to talk to anyone. Her skin was darker than his. Not as dark as mine, but still like…toasty, I guess. Her hair was a dirty blonde. She looked insane, to be honest._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_If you recall the family portrait, Mary Wesninski did not look insane. She looked terrified._

_In the photograph, it was just the same._

_When I try to imagine Reynolds encounter, I can’t see anything but terror come over Mary in a situation like that - knowing what we know._

_But then again, what do we really know?_

_We’ll let you decide for yourselves. We’ll be posting the picture when the podcast drops, and you’ll be able to see Mary and Nathaniel in Key West for yourselves._

_-_

_-Interview-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Okay, so what happened after you saw them in the shop? Did you see them anywhere else?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_I only saw them one more time that day in passing, but that’s it. I didn’t even realize they were in the picture until we had them developed._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_So, when did you realize it was Mary and Nathaniel?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_Not until 2004. It was when the Bu-*beep* was arrested and it was all over the news. I saw that family photo pop up somewhere and I knew immediately. All the news ever said was that they had been missing and no clues to their whereabouts were ever found._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Did you tell anyone?_

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ exasperated ]_

_I told everyone. No one believed me, said I was crazy. Even after I tried to pull the picture out one summer and show my parents._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Okay._

_[ pause ]_

_So tell us why you want to do this. To help us find Mary and Nathaniel and fund the project in the process._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ annoyed ]_

_I told you why._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_In your own words._

**_ALLISON:_ **

_[ sigh. Background noise, waves crashing ]_

_Because I’m not fucking crazy. I saw them and they were here, in the Keys, in 2002, and they looked fucking terrified. I know they were running from something. I want to prove I’m right, but I also want to help that kid. I know he’d be grown now, but if they’re still out there, if they’re still running, I want to help._

**_ANDREW MINYARD_ **

_Okay._

-

Thursday night, it happened.

The Audio Notes were finally dropped and Andrew’s trip to Florida was finally revealed.

The only reason Neil knew was because he heard Minyard’s voice coming from Matt’s laptop while he was in the kitchen getting a glass of water.

He nearly dropped it - frozen in place with eyes wide and blood rushing in his ears. Sir came from nowhere and slowly wound her way through his legs, meowing up at him. Neil swallowed hard and forced himself to calm, to listen for just a moment, and try to see if he needed to be worried.

 _Loophole_.

They were asking about the Baltimore house again. That wasn’t so bad. Well, it was _bad_ , but it was information Neil already knew they had and had over a week to process. It gave just the right amount of time to force himself to talk and take a gulp of water. Sir sat on top of his feet. He didn’t push her away.

Instead, he stayed and listened.

And ran once he heard someone named Allison Reynolds talk about how she saw him in the keys in 2002.

_No._

_Fuck._

_No, no, no._

Neil beelined for his room and it was only when he was safely behind the locked door that he realized Sir had followed him in. He didn’t care enough to kick her out. He pulled out his phone and his earbuds and found the Audio Notes. When he pressed play, someone named Allison Reynolds detailed their encounter.

Which he remembered.

He didn’t think he would. Florida came back in few sights and smells and feelings, but this? As she spoke, he could see the store he’d been in when his mother was talking to the person at the counter. He remembered how she’d told him that they had to go to this place for people to help them - people he’d never heard of - all in order to stay safe from his father.

_‘Your Uncle Stuart gave me the name of someone there who can help us, Abram. They’ll be able to give us papers so we can fly far away from here, where your father can't get us.’_

Neil had asked his mother once why they didn’t just go live with Uncle Stuart. He seemed like he had everything they needed. After all, whenever they were in a tight spot, his mother would call Uncle Stuart and he would send her money or a name. Once he’d gotten older, she told him it was because she refused to trade one crime family for another, or to have Neil grow up in one either. He never questioned her after that.

_Perhaps you should’ve._

Neil listened to Allison Reynolds describe him as small, heard her describe how she talked to him. It was the first time in a very long time someone besides his mother had spoken to him. He was shocked into silence. Back then, they’d been on the run for just over a year and he’d be lying if he said he yearned for someone other than his mothers _sometimes_ harsh, stern words pushing them forward.

When the audio notes finished, Neil rolled over and buried his face into his pillow. Sir jumped onto the bed and lay down at his side.

She was warm.

_We’d been spotted more than once._

That was obvious enough. And he thought, with a feeling in his throat that bordered on pain, Andrew Minyard was going to do this.

_Loophole._

He was going to find Neil. He was going to track him across the entire country and maybe even Europe, where he and his mother had spent two years. He really was going to follow the crumbs and eventually, Andrew Minyard was going to find him in New York...where Neil was still desperately trying to find that god damned, mother fucking _loophole_.

He did not go into full panic mode. He didn’t know _how_ at this point. Instead, he buried his fingers into Sir’s fur, squeezed his eyes closed, and breathed through it. Something was slowly becoming even more achingly clear. And it was that Neil had to keep his wits about him - he had to stay steady on the course.

Another thing that became abundantly clear was that this was still the best place for him. Matt, New York, this building - it was the safest place he could hope to be in. Right now, he still had a good job where he was making steady money and putting what he could away. Bit by bit, he soon may not only be able to afford papers, but perhaps he may find another contact and get the hell out of the country soon.

The only question was, could he manage that before Andrew found him?

The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to keep listening - he had to keep track of what was going on and where they were.

He had to stay one step ahead.

And hopefully, that would lead him to his _loophole_.

-

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_It was okay. That was enough for me. Her intentions were clear, but as I said earlier, I could care less, so long as I get the information I need to solve this._

_And more information came. Allison fucking Reynolds was delivering on her promise. More so than I think I gave her credit for, or expected._

_Because our next stop was Key West, to a small gift shop on famous Duval Street - to where Allison claimed she saw Mary and Nathaniel._

_It still stood. The building was old like everything else was old there. But inside was filled with updated merchandise. Like surfboards, beach bum bullshit, sandals, bathing suits - you can imagine. When we stepped in, I guess I could picture them here, but not really. My thoughts surrounding Mary and Nathaniel were always so dark - hiding in closets and pushed down stairs... Leakin Parks and the darkness of basements. Not here, not this. Where people milled around with sunburns and bleach white smiles, the constant smell of sweat and sunscreen in the air. To me, it was near unfathomable to see small, 7 year old Nathaniel looking at bracelets._

_[ pause ]_

_I headed to the back of the shop where the register was. There was a middle aged woman seated behind it, flipping through a magazine. She looked old enough to be here back in 2002, but not by much, not really, and that wasn’t very encouraging._

_She didn’t need much encouragement to talk though. Once I’d introduced myself and our purpose, she was eager to share what she knew. Considering the fact she was reading People Magazine, that shouldn’t have been surprising._

-

Neil was at the stadium late Saturday night after a game, which the Lynxes won easily with Matt on the team. He was behind the plexiglass of the court picking up any trash left behind when Matt came out, calling his name.

He waved from where he was and attempted to pick up a napkin with an unknown substance sticking it to the floor.

“Team meeting over?” Neil asked, standing straight to talk.

“Yep. Come with me. I want to show you something.” Matt gestured for Neil to follow and turned around.

“I have to finish this!” Neil called after him.

“No you don’t. I talked to Jerry. He’s going to send someone else out here. Come on!” Matt kept walking, unconcerned. Neil looked around himself, then down at the stuck napkin and sighed. Dropping the trash bag, he threw the gloves he’d been wearing on top before following.

Matt led him to a set of stairs he’d never noticed before. They climbed up, up, up, until Neil was sure they were at the roof of the stadium. Once they reached the top, Matt led him down a dark hallway and stopped at an opening.

When he turned to Neil, his bright smile nearly glowed in the darkness as he said, “Come look.”

They were in the rafters, he realized. Where the lights were set and banners were hung - he looked out and took an automatic step back.

Matt laughed, “Come out here with me. The view is incredible.”

_Nathaniel._

Neil followed after Matt carefully. There was a narrow walkway above the lights. He assumed it was so they could be serviced easier. Slowly, Matt sat down and Neil took his time slowly lowering himself to sit next to him.

He was right.

The view really was incredible.

“This is...” Neil didn’t know what to say. The entire stadium was laid out below him. He could hear the screaming fans if he closed his eyes - could hear the sticks clacking and the bodies colliding. It was beautiful, this view...maybe the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Pretty great, right? One of the senior players took me up here when I was a rookie and panicking about our first game. It puts shit into perspective, you know? How small we are in the scheme of things.”

“Yeah...” Though Neil had felt small all his life.

“So,” Matt started with an exhale. “How have you been? With the panic attacks, I mean. You doing okay...? And,” Matt held up a hand, “don’t say you’re fine or I swear, I’ll push you off.” He didn’t look at him when he asked the questions though. His warm brown eyes still looking down at the court he’d just played on. Neil was grateful.

He even smiled a little. His shoulders felt relaxed, no tension in his legs or an itch at his heels begging him to run. “I’ve been okay.” His voice was quieter than he’d meant. He didn’t bother to raise it. “I’m sorry to be a bother. But, playing with you has helped,” he nodded with his words.

They’d played twice more, since then and every  time, Neil could only get around Matt once or twice.

Matt nodded too. “What about Sir? How do you like her?”

Neil thought it was an odd line of questioning, but went with it. “She’s...good, I guess? She won’t leave me the fuck alone. She follows me around like a shadow in the apartment.”

Matt did look at him then and his smile, this time, was sheepish. “I got her for you. I thought she might help.”

_What..?_

Neil blinked. “You got me a...cat? To help...?”

Matt let out a loud breath and shifted so he was facing Neil. “Okay, just hear me out.” He inhaled a bigger one, like he was steeling himself, before saying, “She’s an ESA. I did some research and found a lady in Brooklyn who trains cats to be comfort pets.”

“What...Matt, what the fuck is an ESA?” Neil was so confused that he didn’t know whether to laugh or leave.

“They’re emotional support animals. They help people who have anxiety. You can’t really train cats that well, you know. But this lady said her cats are really good at detecting when people are in distress. It’s why she’s been following you around. You’re a walking anxiety disaster and I think it’s like catnip to her.”

Neil decided on laughing. He laughed loud and it echoed in the stadium. Matt ended up laughing with him and only when they’d caught their breath and Neil’s chest ached from it did Neil say, “Matt, how have you survived in this world, as nice as you are? I guess if someone tried to mug you, you’d just give them your wallet and ask if there was anything else you could do for them.”

Matt laughed again and shook his head. He looked back down at the court, smile still lingering on his lips. “I don’t know, man...like I said, I just want to help. I know there’s a story to you. I know there’s something going on more than just you being another unfortunate runaway. I’ve been through shit too, and I’ve seen bad things.” Neil visibly tensed. Matt noticed and he glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. “I’m not going to ask. If you want to tell me, you’ll tell me. But while you’re here...I just want to help.”

Neil didn’t know how to process all of that...but he felt himself nodding as his mind spun and ended on one thought - how odd it was that he was 25 years old and he only just realized that some people in the world were just good people. That some people didn’t want anything in return.

Even if they deserved it.

_-_

**_RENEE:_ **

_Thursday April 25, 2019._

_Duval Street, Key West, Florida._

_[ tourists, people speaking in background, faint music ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_First, what’s your name and how do you spell it?_

**_DEBORAH WATKINS:_ **

_Deborah Watkins - D E B O R A H, W A T K I N S._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Right. How long have you worked in this store?_

**_DEBORAH:_ **

_Well, my husband and I own it, actually. For about ten years now._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Do you know the previous owners? Are they still in the area._

**_DEBORAH:_ **

_[ conspiratorially ]_

_Ah, well. That._

_[ lower voice ]_

_Turns out, they were running some sort of illegal business out the back. Feds came in and shut them down. We bought the store when it went up for sale, some years later._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_You heard that correctly. Whoever was running this place back in 2002 was running an illegal business out of the back of this shop._

_-_

_-Interview-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Do you know what kind of illegal business? Drugs maybe?_

**_DEBORAH:_ **

_No, no. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was counterfeit money and documents. We found a bunch of weird paper in the back and there was ink everywhere. Apparently, a federal investigation doesn’t also mean clean up._

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_I know what you’re all thinking. Keep fucking thinking it._

_When I looked at Renee, she had the same look on her face that all of you must have right now._

_Counterfeit money and documents - now, at the moment, we didn’t know how true this was._

_Deborah seemed like a gossiper. She had that conspiratorial light in her eyes, that excitement that showed more about her character than anything else ever could. She had an investigative journalist in front of her, with a recorder - I wouldn’t be surprised if she made something up or if she tried to make her story much more interesting than it actually was. This was probably the most interesting thing to ever come into her shop besides drunk Harry or Ian or whatever to stumble in from the dozens of bars down the street._

_Which means that as a journalist, I had to be on my guard. I had to confirm every lead that this woman was giving and I couldn’t skimp on the details or be lazy. No matter how long it took, no matter how frustrating or aggravating, I had to find something to substantiate her claims. Because though what Deborah was saying was exciting, could fundamentally change our investigation and help propel us into further finding where Mary and Nathaniel went next, she could also be lying through her teeth for the sake of seeing her name in an article or the chance to hear herself speak on a podcast._

_I didn’t know if that was the case. Nonetheless, I had one more question._

_-_

_-Interview-_

_[ pause. Background noise ]_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_These people were seen here in 2002. Were you here then? Do you recall seeing them?_

**_DEBORAH:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_[ hum ]_

_Mm… No. We were here then, but they don’t look familiar to me._

**_ANDREW:_ **

_Okay. Thank you for your time. Do you happen to know if there are any other shop owners that have been in the area for longer? Twenty years or so?_

_-_

_-Studio-_

**_ANDREW:_ **

_The first step to confirming if what Deborah was saying was true or not, was seeing if there was anyone else in the area that knew anything of the shut down of the previous owners._

_Deborah wrote down several other shops and owners that may be able to help us and after lunch, we went about visiting every single one. Only one person had seen Mary and Nathaniel, and he confirmed to us that Mary was trying to buy hair dye._

_Looking to go incognito, it would seem._

_Receiving confirmation from several other people in the area that the feds had come in and shut down whatever back-store business going on back then, let us know that we were at least on the right track._

_Now, the only thing to keep in mind is that this is a small town - where most of those people had most likely been there for decades. Gossip spreads quickly, and I’m not partial to trusting several individuals with the same light shining in their eyes that Deborah had at the mention of ‘Investigative Journalist’ and ‘missing persons’. I’d be doing a disservice to this case and you listeners if I didn’t do my own research._

_Well. I ended up doing just that._

_After going through the entire list, we stopped at the Monroe County Library to go through their archives, to see if there was anything to confirm what we’d found._

_There was._

_We found several local articles detailing the undercover investigation that revealed a forgery business being run out the back of the shop in 2005._

_We’ll have that posted sometime this week or the next._

_This was quite possibly the most important information we’ve received yet. That includes anything we may or may not have found in Baltimore...it includes the Toronto Interview and it connects what we would eventually find in Parkland and Port St. Lucie - which we already covered._

_Why is this?_

_Because now we know that Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski went to Florida with the possible intent to buy illegal documents. That can be money, IDs, passports, you name it. Mary was also trying to hide their appearance._

_And knowing that they were outed, by some mysterious source to the police under Abram may say more about their need to get the fuck out of here than we’d initially thought._

_This is big. This is bigger than just the photograph. And while this answers several of our questions, like where Mary and Nathaniel went after they disappeared, and the possibility that people were after them - it raises even more questions than what’s been answered._

_Reynolds was really proving her fucking worth._

-

Sunday morning, Neil slept in. It was a rare occurrence. He was used to waking up at 6AM. Perhaps it was something left over from his life on the run, he didn’t really know. Either way, he woke up at 11 and realized something he’d been trying to shove away for the past few weeks. But it was there and it was becoming more and more achingly obvious that he was getting comfortable here - his deep sleep only proved it.

And the fact that he was comfortable didn’t bother him as much as it should’ve.

_This is bad, Nathaniel. Nothing good can come of this._

Well.

It seemed like it was slowly becoming too late by this point. Neil was _tired_ of running. He was tired of being scared and briefly, last night, he wondered if this was the future that he _could_ have, if only he were smart about it. Keep on running, keep on hiding, keep on evading a future that was surely coming? Or finally say enough is enough.

_Wasn’t that what you were trying in Arizona?_

He and Matt had a Sunday routine at this point. Usually, he’d wake up and they’d eat breakfast together. Then, they’d go to the bodega, deli, or even Trader Joes on the other side of Central Park - because carrying shit back was easier with the two of them. Neil would insist on paying half, Matt would argue, and then Neil would pay half anyway. They’d get back to the apartment and Matt would work out while Neil ran on the treadmill. They showered, they ate lunch, hung around if neither of them had errands to run. Sometimes, if Matt didn’t have plans, they’d order in for dinner because neither of them were great at anything beyond eggs or sandwiches. Then, they’d close the night sitting in front of the TV and Matt would have his laptop open on the Red Rabbits page, waiting for the audio notes or podcast to drop.

Tonight, it would be the podcast. Neil didn’t really want to listen, deeming it just to be all of the same. He’d heard the audio notes from the trip, so there was no point, right?

_Don’t be an idiot. Stay one step ahead._

He should. So, he forced himself to stay on top and waited in anticipation for Matt’s whoop of excitement to come.When it did, he asked if Neil wanted to listen together. Neil, of course, said no and excused himself to his bedroom. Sure, that may be obvious, but the voice inside his head was right. It just lead to the realization that Andrew might say more than what was in the Notes in this Episode, and Neil didn’t know how he’d react to whatever the fuck that hypothetical thing might be.

Sir jumped off the couch when Neil stood and he held his bedroom door open for her before he shut and locked it. When he collapsed onto his bed with his phone, she jumped up after him and Neil allowed her to climb onto his lap before putting in his earbuds.

Maybe he’d need her.

He pressed play.

-

_Speaking of ‘proving worth’, we’ve received emails and asks about sponsoring Red Rabbits and sending in money to the studio. Even a twitter account where I clearly told someone ‘no’, and I have a sneaking suspicion they sent in money anyway._

_I don’t want your money._

_We’ve already got a sponsorship through Reynolds, and it’s more than enough. We don’t need this money. But there are plenty of others that do._

_With that said, we’ll be posting links on the website with charities you’re welcome and encouraged to donate to. After receiving the extremely serious and important Cease and Desist from Edgar Allen Productions, we’ve already donated $200k to these charities under EAP’s name._

_Oops._

_All that out of the way, we’ve had several leads that have pointed to Europe being the next stop on the timeline for Mary and Nathaniel. So, to Europe we go. Keep an eye out for the next set of Audio Notes, which will be about our trip there and what we find out._

_I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_Keep searching._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traveling, Jet lag, and working across time zones is exhausting, but Andrew and I got back from our most recent trip in time to compile final edits. Again thank you to everyone for supporting our search, especially those that have offered to help fund. I've attached the links below for different charities focusing on missing youths if you would like to make a donation below.  
> Also, don't forget! If you have any leads or theories, please email us at foxholenetwork@gmail.com. We'd love to see what you've got. 
> 
> Keep searching. -R
> 
>  
> 
> [National Center for Missing and Exploited Children](http://www.missingkids.com/home)  
> [Black and Missing Inc.](http://www.blackandmissinginc.com/)  
> True Colors United
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> You can find Allison's photograph of Nathaniel and Mary [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185004814405/episode-3-florida-has-now-been-posted-you-can).


	6. Audio Notes # 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What did he endure, Renee?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Back to our regular posting.  
> So a few things from us, the creators!  
> Again, we are CONSTANTLY blown away by the love that you all continue giving us. Honestly, all of this is still surreal and we cant believe that yall have stuck with us this far. Honestly it's... wow.  
> So, keeping this 'short', we've released the transcript with this chapter - which, you can find [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1REtsWlFf1c0bLBOCgEfLssP9tfEPiMSXbB0XGI_bQSg/edit?usp=sharing).  
> It is VERY important, especially if you are engaging with this world on tumblr, twitter, etc, that you read the transcript. There are some redactions that will make a difference in the knowledge that the listener has. So please check it out!  
> There is also a warning for this chapter. We start to see more of Andrew's back story, so there is a moment towards the end of the chapter where Andrew has a nightmare of his abuse. It is not explicit and very brief, but we want to let y'all know beforehand, just in case.  
> Also CW for self-harm mention.  
> You can keep up with RRP on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)! We usually post updates on there, so you'll know if something is late or not!  
> Enjoy!

It really couldn’t be said enough, but Andrew really fucking hated planes. Cramped, compact, and a metal fucking box in the sky - he fucking. Hated. Planes. First class, economy, it didn’t fucking matter. The only thing that changed the front of the plane to the back, was the fact that he didn’t have to worry about a stranger pushing into his side and there was room to stretch his legs. Nothing could change the fact of what a plane was - a flying death trap that could malfunction at any moment. They could just fall out of the god damned sky and -

Andrew took a deep breath, stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back in his seat. He laced his fingers together over his stomach and closed his eyes, trying not to _think_.

Renee nudged him with an elbow and Andrew cracked one eye open to give her a look of something akin to annoyance.

She was not deterred.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, smile in place. “Sit up. You don’t get to sleep to try and ignore this flight when there’s work to be done.”

Work. Who’s fucking idea was this anyway?

Andrew ground his teeth lightly together for half a second and closed his eyes again. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway, but it was nice to pretend that the acid in his stomach wasn’t slowly creeping up his throat with his steadily growing anxiety; nice to imagine that sleep could take him all the way from one continent to the next in the blink of an eye.

The two of them were on their way to Stuttgart, Germany and all together, the trip was 20 hours with layovers. That would be 20 hours of nausea, anxiety, elevated heart rate, and absolutely no fucking sleep. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage not doing something regrettable in that amount of time, so he knew despite himself, that Renee was right. There was work to be done and it would provide a (hopefully) good distraction while they soared across the Atlantic and however many fucking countries until they reached their destination.

Renee sighed and shuffled beside him.

Andrew peeled back his lids to watch as she got out her laptop from the corner of his eyes. Sighing, he sat up and mumbled, “Why are you so mean to me? After all, we’ve been through...?”

“Yes, yes. I was there the time you made a fool of yourself in front of Charlie Daniels,” She waved a hand as if she were shooing away a fly. “That makes us family, I know. Let’s go over the plan for when we land. I’ve never been anywhere in Europe before and I want to make sure I’m prepared.”

They’d gone over it a few times. However, Renee, Seth, and Dan had been sick at the beginning of the week. Andrew used that time to stay in his apartment and avoid whatever was plaguing the office, drawing up an itinerary of this trip on his own in their absence. That meant their normal detailed planning, wasn’t as in-depth as usual.

He lowered the tray table from the seat in front of him, pulled out his laptop, booted it up, then opened his planning document.

Early on in their investigation, they’d received a few leads to their email. The first claimed there had been a sighting of Nathaniel and Mary in Scotland, which kicked this trip off. After several discussions and a handful more tips, Andrew had decided to bite the bullet and just do it. Thankfully, the sightings seemed solid and legit, so this potentially-fatal flight wouldn’t be completely useless and Andrew could kill two birds with one stone.

So to speak.

Really, it’s just been too long since he’d been to visit Nicky and his husband Erik. Nicky had been bugging him for the past few years to come, but after his last 20 hour fucking trip to Stuttgart, he’d been trying to hold it off for as long as he possibly could. In that time, Nicky made the trek to the US - once when Bella was born and again two years later for Christmas to surprise Bee. At least now he had actual incentive to visit (not like Nicky wasn’t enough...), something to push him across the ‘roughly’ 3,399 miles of the fucking Atlantic again.

It seemed, lately, that Andrew’s incentive always had something to do with Nathaniel and Mary.

Strange.

“Our first stop will be Strasbourg, France,” he started, checking over his notes. “There’s someone there claiming to have seen them at some big music festival they hold in the city every year. It’s only about a 2 hour drive from Stuttgart, so we should be able to do it in one day.”

“Okay,” Renee said, making a note across her own keyboard. “Will we need to rent a car?”

“I’ll take Nicky’s,” he replied, scrolling through the notes he’d attempted to refine the night before. “We’ll do that Monday. Tuesday,” Andrew paused, tonguing his lip ring for a moment as he reviewed what he’d written silently, then continued. “We can do Hanover. We’ll need to stay overnight and Friday we fly to Scotland to talk to the woman from the email. We’ll head back to Stuttgart the next day and fly home on Monday.”

“Got it.”

And so it went. Once they were done planning, there was really nothing left for Andrew to do but stress about the flight - so, he used the plane wifi to waste time on the website and try to take his mind off how high they were at the moment.

“So,” Renee turned towards him in her seat sometime later. She waited for him to pull out a headphone. “Do you think Allison will be able to do it?”

“Do what? Stop herself from fucking Seth in the sound booth again? Probably not.” His body gave an involuntary shudder. The two of them honestly were the worst.

Renee’s purse of her lips didn’t go unnoticed and he raised his brows at her.

“Something to say, Walker?”

“It’s not serious between them,” Renee said quietly. She was perfectly normal and composed, but Andrew rolled his eyes anyway. So this was how it was going to be? For the past couple of weeks, Renee and Allison had been circling each other and while it was really none of his business, he wanted to tell Renee she deserved better.

Then again, he didn’t think it would matter who ‘better’ was. No one would be good enough for her, in his opinion.

Nonetheless.

“Serious or not, they should take their fucking elsewhere.” Something in his tone might have insinuated for Renee’s sake in that. But. “As for your question, I assume you mean getting the Nathan interview?” She nodded.

Andrew had asked Allison before he left to make herself useful and use her connections in the entertainment industry to get him an interview with Nathan in the prison. This was partly so he could tell her to do something other than making calls and antagonizing Seth in the office. In his opinion, if she wanted to be here and be a part of this, great. Then get to work.

However, that was only _partly_. Because although he didn’t give a shit about Nathan and whatever his motivations for a public interview would be - he wanted to hear about Nathaniel and Mary straight from his mouth. He wanted to hear whatever version of Nathan’s truth in regards to what happened to them; to see if maybe he had been wrong this entire time and Nathan’s people really had caught up to the pair.

Though the issue with something like this was that it had to be handled properly. Hypothetically, if he did land this gig, there could be no room for error. If done incorrectly, he could easily fall into the trap that others had - sensationalizing a killer's actions, giving a platform for said killer to continue spitting whatever trash they had already. It would be risky and he had to be smart about every single word he fucking said. But, if Andrew couldn’t do it, then he seriously doubted that anyone else could. That wasn’t him being big-headed or conceited, it was just the truth. He’d done countless interviews over his career, many from established, important, deplorable monsters (of a different sort). He was good at choosing his words, saying what needed to be said and nothing more.

Still didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. The audience of Red Rabbits had only grown and there was no slowing down in sight. What he may see as a completely reasonable line of questioning, others may not. There was a lot of room and possibility for error. That thought put an uncomfortable lump in his throat that Andrew had to swallow down.

Cracking his picky, he inhaled a deep breath and thought instead of the opportunities this interview (if achieved) may bring. Like the ability to tell Nathan to his face what a giant piece of shit he was.

Yeah.

That was good.  

“You’re probably right,” Renee eventually agreed, snapping him out of his thoughts. “She’s stubborn, that’s for sure...”

He focused on her face to keep his mind in the present, rather than the future, and he didn’t miss the small smile that tugged at the corner of Renee’s lips as she stared down at her keyboard.

Averting his eyes, he decided he’d looked his fill and left Renee to whatever thoughts ran through her head. Instead, he went to browse through his email to find a new one sitting at the top. It was from Abby and the subject line read, _“Don’t be a Headache”._

Inside were reminders about the cease and desist.

_“Don’t reference the M family at all or EAP. Don’t write about them, don’t post about them, don’t talk about them to anyone you come in contact with. In fact, don’t even think about them.-”_

He could practically see Abby glaring at him. She honestly knew him too well.

_“We can get around this if we comply, but it’s not going to do us any good if we have to go to court over something that has minimal impact on this project anyway.”_

_Minimal impact?_ Andrew huffed.

They’d see about that, he supposed. He suspected the Moriyama’s played a bigger role in this entire mess than it seemed, and it was only a matter of time before it came to light.

He could feel it.

-

By the time they finally landed in Germany, it was Saturday morning and Andrew was (as the kids say) ‘hella’ fucking annoyed. He was tired, he was hungry, he was cranky, and Nicky’s chipper attitude and megawatt grin did nothing to quell the feeling.

“Andrew! You’ve grown!” Nicky laughed and put both hands on Andrew’s arms to briefly give a light squeeze. He knew that was as much of a hug as Andrew would allow and took it in stride. Meanwhile, he scooped Renee into a proper hug while Andrew sent Erik a nod. He was standing behind Nicky’s shoulder with an indulgent smile at his husband's antics. Erik was too fucking tall and blond and happy and Andrew mentally groaned at the theatrics of this entire greeting.

He needed a nap.

“Okay! Let’s get your bags!” Nicky said with a clap of his hands. “Then, we can get home and you guys can crash. I know you must be exhausted.” He sent Andrew a pointed look, but all Andrew could give in response was a grunt of assent.

After Andrew and Renee collected their bags, Nicky handed Andrew the car keys once they got outside without having to be asked. Andrew, despite his exhaustion, took them gratefully. Although Nicky was one of the only people he (surprisingly) trusted behind a wheel, he didn’t think with his leftover anxiety from the flight that he’d be able to handle it. Andrew needed something solid and familiar beneath his hands. The wheel of a car and a path on solid ground would have to do.

Nicky, Renee, and Erik kept a polite stream of chatter all the way to the house. Perhaps if this were a few years ago, Nicky would have attempted to pull Andrew into whatever conversation they were carrying, or given unnecessary directions while knowing full well that Andrew remembered the way. This time, however, he let him be, almost as if he were trying to direct attention _away_ from Andrew so as to give him space.

The driveway was small, fitting only one car, and it was attached to a beautiful, old townhome. The siding was painted a baby blue that stood in contrast to the other pastel homes attached. There was a small garden following the path to the front door and all the flowers were in full bloom under Germany’s shining sun.

Nicky had talked about gardening in their many skype calls over the months - often either on his way out during Andrew’s mornings to spend time in his little gardens, or coming back during Andrew’s early evening with an even darker bronze to his skin. He saw that Nicky’s labor paid off. Even in his sleep deprived, anxiety-ridden, cigarette needing mind, he could see that. Somewhere in the depths of his hollowed out chest, he felt a swell of happiness for his cousin. Everything about him read _content_.

Andrew put the car in park, took the keys, and let himself into the house. Bags be damned, he couldn’t be bothered getting them out, carrying them in, or even changing into other clothes as he trekked himself through the house to the small guest bedroom. He locked himself inside, collapsed on the bed, and slept the anxiety away.

-

Andrew was already awake by the time Renee came knocking to tell him they were going out for dinner.

He’d been asleep for most of the day, leaving only unwelcomed nightmares to stir him awake. It may have been minutes, an hour, _several_ , that he’d been lying there, he didn’t know. The small house was filled with creaking warmth that only a well-loved home had. Its walls were paper thin and he could hear Nicky and Erik moving about their day.

They sounded happy. Andrew could practically feel the domestic bliss leaking through the walls, and perhaps that was why he stayed lying in bed. He didn’t want to disturb them, ruin their moods with his unpleasant attitude. The flight, the nightmares, the _case_ , it was taking a lot out of him and although he would never admit it out loud, he didn’t want to put that on Nicky - not now. They hadn’t seen each other in a long time and he owed his cousin more than just sour looks and quick remarks.

But, he couldn’t hide forever, nor could he ignore the ache in his stomach.

Sitting up, he looked around the small space. The sun was slowly setting, leaving everything awash in oranges and pinks. Andrew slowly rolled himself out of bed and headed to the door. Renee had walked away already, but when he opened the door, his bags were standing in her place.

Andrew redressed, splashed cold water on his face, and brushed his teeth. Once he deemed himself as ready as he’d ever be, he made his way to the kitchen where everyone was waiting on him.

“Hey, you look great!” Nicky said.

“Yes, I know. Where are we going?”

Nicky rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grabbed the keys Andrew had tossed on the kitchen table on the way to ‘his’ room hours before. “Essenzaile, naturally. We have reservations, so hurry!” He led the way to the car and waved the keys with a questioning look sent in Andrew’s direction.

Andrew could take the offer, but despite how he’d woken, he felt centered enough to allow Nicky behind the wheel.  

Once they were situated at the restaurant and Andrew had a plate of fritters in front of him, he was in a considerably better headspace - which Nicky immediately pounced on.

“Okay, so spill. How’s the podcast going? Got any like...really amazing leads? Do you think you’ll find them?” There was barely a pause between the onslaught of questions. Andrew supposed he couldn’t really blame him, considering Nicky did allow Andrew the luxury of sleep for most of the day. “Are you seeing anyone? Honestly, Andrew. You’re wasted on single life. You should find a boyfriend and settle down.”

_Spoke too soon._

Andrew stared blankly at Nicky for a second and spared a glance for Erik, who was trying very hard to stifle a laugh. Andrew sighed, tampered down what he really wanted to say, and started from the top.

“Podcast is fine. We’ve had a few good leads. Yes, I think we’ll find them. No, I’m not seeing anyone and you know better than most, I will never have a _relationship_.” He grimaced a little, as if the word itself was distasteful.

Because really to Andrew, it was. The idea of a ‘boyfriend’ was so fucking ridiculous that he couldn’t even picture it. In the past, he’d had guys that he trusted to get off with, but that was about it. At the moment, he had one guy - an improvisation really, since Roland was frustratingly and monogamously claimed.

Dion wasn’t such a bad consolation prize. Once Andrew had gotten a better read on him and determined what kind of person he was, Andrew went with his want - and his want, at the time, was getting off with Dion in the back of the Maserati (carefully, those seats were precious). Since then, it hasn’t been _regular_ , per sé, but it was _enough_ . Andrew needed _something_ and Dion was the perfect _whatever_ to fill that need. For now, it was working and Dion seemed more than willing to remain in ‘gross South fucking Carolina’ with Allison.

_For now._

Which made the arrangement all the better. Dion would eventually leave town altogether and Andrew could move onto whatever _next,_ next was.

“Waste,” Nicky tsked again, shaking his head. “You would be the best boyfriend...all broody and protective and shit. I don’t know why you would deny the gay popu-”

“Stop,” Andrew said, holding up a hand. “I’m done talking about this now. Change the subject.”

Nicky just smiled a little, almost in a way that said he knew he was nearing Andrew’s ‘bullshit threshold’, then shook his head. “Fine. You’re a catch, that’s all.” He moved on. “So tell me about the podcast. Renee, how are you handling traveling all over with Mr. Sunshine?”

Renee, who’d been watching on with a small smile on her lips, laughed lightly and put down her fork. “He’s actually a great travel companion. Super low maintenance and as long as he’s fed before midnight and you don’t get him wet, all is well.”

“What about sunlight?” Erik asked. “Is that also one of your rules?”

Andrew cocked his head at him. “Nicky made you watch Gremlins, didn’t he?”

“I absolutely did and he loved it,” Nicky held up his glass of wine and smiled that megawatt smile again. It quickly changed soft as he focused his attention back on the podcast after taking a sip. “So you said you think you’ll find them. Are you close?”

“Probably not.”

“No like...recent sightings?”

“No.”

“Ah...” Nicky looked torn between optimism and confusion. “What makes you so sure then?”

It was a good question, a reasonable question, a question that Andrew had only one answer for.

“I just have a feeling.”

-

Sunday morning Andrew woke up to the smell of coffee.

It was 8AM Stuttgart time, which meant 2AM Palmetto time. Andrew was still jet-lagged, but he learned early on in Nicky’s move to Germany that he would have to try and force his body to adjust to local time. Otherwise the rest of the trip would be miserable, which meant anyone and everyone around _Andrew_ would, in turn, be miserable too.

He padded out to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses and running a hand through sleep-tousled hair. Nicky sat at the kitchen table, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. Whisps hung down in his face as he scrolled through his phone and took a slow sip of coffee. When he noticed Andrew down the hallway, he looked up and smiled.

“Morning sunshine,” he set his phone down and nodded his chin to the countertop. “Coffee’s all yours.”

Andrew shuffled over and pulled out the mug he always used when he was here. It was black with a white skull and said, _‘A Nice Hot Cup of Fuckoffee’_.

He sat at the table across from his cousin after pouring copious amounts of cream and sugar into his steaming mug. He winced when he took a sip, even let out a small groan of disgust. He had a love/hate relationship with German coffee. It was both better and worse than the coffee they had in the US in the sense that it was much stronger, so the caffeine kick was fantastic. However, because it was stronger, it also tasted like shit.

He added more sugar.

“So,” Nicky started. That one word was much softer than he’d spoken the night before. Andrew didn’t have the automatic inclination to steel himself for a ridiculous line of questioning. Instead, he sipped his coffee and waited for Nicky to continue. “How are you...? Really? I try to pry info out of Betsy, but she doesn’t tell me anything.”

Andrew set down the mug, closing his eyes as he relished in the warmth it carried down his throat. _Much better_. “That’s because she’s not a gossip like you.”

When he opened his eyes, Nicky gave him a _look_.

He sighed. “I’m fine. Really,” he added after Nicky raised a brow. He continued, “It’s been...good. This case. It’s helped take my mind off getting fired and it feels like I’m fighting back in my own way. I miss writing some. I’m writing the podcasts, but it’s not like writing a piece, you know? I get lost, but in a completely different way.” That was more than Andrew would have ever given _anyone_ , if this were five years ago. It left him feeling exposed in a way that had him itching to close back up, but he pushed passed it as Bee _buzzed_ comfortingly in his ear.

Nicky’s hum accompanied the buzz in acknowledgment. Not only was Andrew getting better with _talking_ , but Nicky was easier to talk to, now that he was older and settled. _Before_ , Nicky was just a ball of insecure energy. He was loud and boisterous and always happy because he felt like he _had_ to always be happy - for his parents, for society, for the twins. Andrew didn’t recognize it at the time, but after living with Bee, after having a family home where Nicky was a constant presence until he moved, he’d realized how much Nicky initially had to sacrifice in order to take in two 16-year-old assholes. He put everything he wanted aside in order to try and give Andrew and Aaron the life they deserved and he would have gone all the way if Bee hadn’t stepped in. He would have kept them until they were eighteen and probably longer, just to make sure they had family around...

The credit Nicky deserved wasn’t always given. But maybe that was also why Andrew sat there, giving up answers with far more detail than he would have to most others, allowing himself to be questioned - it was to _thank_ Nicky for all he’d done.

Andrew was proud of him, he was thankful for him, he was _happy_ for him. No more too-big smiles, self-deprecating jokes, prying questions, and the need to be liked. No, this Nicky was centered, he was calm, he was everything Andrew had ever hoped he could be. He was one more person Bee had helped to live a better life.

“Do you think you’ll go back to writing when you’re done? Or do you think you’ll stick with this platform?” Nicky looked at him seriously over the rim of his mug. Rich brown eyes, light brown skin, everything about Nicky was _warm_ . Even the small lines that creased at the corners of his eyes, the lines that crinkled when he smiled - they weren’t there before, but they made Andrew feel _warm_ too. They’d come so far.

“I don’t know. Probably. I can’t imagine doing this for anything else and this is a special case, I think. If I were to do it again, it would have to be for something big.”

Nicky nodded and put his cup down. “You should write a book.”

Andrew almost laughed. A huff came out instead and as he shook his head. “No, I shouldn't. I don’t have anything to say that would fill a book.”

“Mm...” Nicky hummed. “I think you do. I think you have a lot to say and I think a lot that you _do_ have to say, would be really important to people. For those who grew up in foster care, for gay teens, for people who’ve struggled with self-harm.”

Andrew clenched his jaw and Nicky stopped talking immediately. He stayed silent while Andrew cleared his thoughts.

Nicky knew, of course. He hadn’t always worn the black armbands he did now and they had lived together, for a time.

Nonetheless, the bands had been a staple for the last decade. A suggestion from someone else that understood. They gave Andrew a type of confidence, assurance, _protection_ even, once upon a time. They didn’t make him feel _strong_ per sé, but they helped him in ways he really couldn’t even attempt to explain.

Nicky knew some of the abuse Andrew had faced, but not all of it. Still, it wasn’t something he discussed and it surely wasn’t something he thought would be helpful in a book.

“I’m not going to write a book. I went through what I went through and it’s not like I handled it particularly well. Change the subject.”

So, Nicky did.

“Well, I’m proud of you. The podcast has been amazing and I love seeing you on the webpage, making everyone crazy.” Nicky smiled again, his eyes crinkling once more as he lifted his mug to his lips. “And I love sending you anonymous asks, just to see if you answer them.”

Andrew’s head shot up from where he’d been looking into the depths of his coffee - finger idly running across the edge of one of his bands. “You send in asks? Have I answered any?”

Nicky shrugged one shoulder and took another sip of his coffee in an attempt to hide his smile to no avail. “A few. I’m not telling you which ones. But, man. You eviscerated me. It was fantastic. I keep coming back for more.” Nicky laughed then and Andrew, he couldn’t help himself.

He laughed a little too.

-

Later in the day, Nicky was determined to get them all out of the house. The only issue with that plan was that it was Sunday and shops weren’t open in Stuttgart on Sunday.

Andrew was just settling himself into a day spent doing nothing but lounging before they had to leave tomorrow when Nicky suggested the Mercedes-Benz Museum.

Andrew had been there before, of course - more than once in fact, while visiting Nicky. But who was he to deny his cousin the opportunity to look at pretty cars for a couple of hours?

Andrew was so _benevolent_. The joy he got from noting that his Maserati was better than all the cars in that museum was just a secondary perk, really.

By the time they got home after looking at cars and taking pictures of cars and stopping for food at the first cafe they could find, Andrew was done. He needed a few hours to recharge, gather himself and his composure before facing his family again. So, he retreated to his room to nap and woke up just in time to demand to be fed dinner.

Erik made potato pancakes (except he called them _kartoffelpuffer_ , which seemed excessive) because he knew Andrew would riot if he didn’t get any before the trip was over, and served them with powdered sugar and applesauce. Even Andrew had to admit he’d eaten too many, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Sometimes (all the time), indulgence was good.

After dinner, they all piled on the couch and chairs like a proper _family_ to watch a movie. Andrew had the big soft chair to himself and he kicked his legs up over the arm and let himself sink down, feeling full, sleepy, and in a way, content. They watched the first Harry Potter in German with english subtitles for Renee, and Andrew definitely didn’t read them too.

The movie was nearing the Forbidden Forest and he heard a soft laugh. Shifting his head just slightly, he saw Nicky and Erik whispering on the couch together. Nicky was curled into Erik’s side and Erik had an arm around his shoulders. He was looking down with a smile stretched happily on his lips before he kissed Nicky on the forehead.

Andrew looked back at the movie.

Maybe it was the copious amounts of potato pancakes, but Andrew tried - if only for a moment - to picture it. Having a partner. Maybe Andrew would come home after work and he would be there. Andrew would be able to talk about his day to someone besides King - not that he minded talking to King. She knew all of his secrets. But maybe, just maybe, it’d be nice to have an honest opinion from someone who respected Andrew. Someone who cared about him and his well being. He knew he had Bee, but it would be different, he thought, with a partner.

He shook his head to clear it. Because the fact of the matter was, it would never happen.

Relationships required give and take, a push and pull, and Andrew didn’t want to do any of those things. He didn’t want to share his past and he didn’t want to answer questions. He was better off alone if he was being completely honest with himself. It would be cruel to subject someone else to him with the plethora of issues and baggage that came with the Andrew Minyard package.

Getting off was fine. It was easy and uncomplicated, most of the time.

This was fine.

He was fine.

He could feel Renee watching him from the chair across the coffee table.

He ignored her.

-

Monday morning, Renee and Andrew set off in Nicky’s car to Strasbourg, which was right over the border in France. Erik biked to work and Nicky had taken the entire week off, even though Andrew and Renee would be gone most of the time.

Seemed like as good excuse as any to take a vacation, he supposed.

The woman they were meeting was named Anais Arnaud. She was 27 years old and claimed to have had contact with Nathaniel when she was 11. She’d sent them an email a few weeks ago, detailing this possible encounter, so she was the first stop on their list.

They met her mid-morning at a cafe called Cafe Bretelles. Renee and Andrew beat Anais there (he assumed. He had no idea what she looked like, but he figured she’d be able to spot the tourists). Andrew ordered a chocolat chaud and twixx maison, while Renee ordered a cappuccino and some granola. Andrew gave her a _look_ , which she ignored in favor of eating her food neatly.

Anais walked in ten minutes later. She spotted them right away and headed to their table to sit across from them.

“Bonjour!” She said brightly, peeling off her jacket and placing it on the back of the chair. She had a long blonde ponytail and big blue eyes. They reminded him a bit of Nathaniel’s.

But not as bright.

“Parlex vous anglais?” Andrew asked, right away. They were close enough to the German border that he could get away with it here, but this girl was obviously French and the German dialect was different depending on where you were anyway. English would allow him to better detect the subtle nuances she may have while she was talking.

“Oui! Thank you for meeting me here,” She said, smiling at them both. A heavy accent tickled the edges of her words, but she was easy to understand. “I must admit, I am extremely excited to meet you. I’m a big fan of the podcast and when I saw the pictures of Nathaniel, I couldn’t believe it.”

That was one thing Andrew usually cautioned himself with. The excitement over the podcast, the light in the interviewee’s eyes when they saw him. He had to gauge these things properly, tread carefully, so as to make sure he wasn’t being played for a spot on the podcast. It was usually something he could catch during email correspondence, but not always. That was only the ‘first line of defense’ if you will.

The second was reading the person when they met. Sometimes smiles could be too big, lies hiding behind their eyes. He’s encountered a few people like that on his travels - even just people that wanted to talk. Sarah Johnson was like that. Though she was a credible source, she had little to nothing to tell them - nothing at least, that Bob Roberts didn’t have already. She was a waste of time spent talking about Columbia University and shitty professors, rather than actual information they could use. And though Bob Roberts was also interested in the podcast, excited even, he had shit to back everything up.

Anais didn’t give off that vibe. She was all open eyes and bright smiles, but there was a serious air about her that gave Andrew assurance to her intent in being here.

“Do you mind if we record?” He asked, pulling his recorder out of his bag and skipping pleasantries.

“No, no. Whatever you need to do. Just let me get a coffee first and we can start.”

Renee and Andrew watched her make her way to the counter to order. He couldn’t help himself.

“She’s...bubbly,” he noted, watching her ponytail swing.

“I think she’s nice. She said she was a fan, so you have to be on your Bee’s house behavior, okay?” she said, looking to him seriously.

Andrew pushed his glasses up on his nose and stared back at her. “I’m perfectly capable of being a normal human being when I feel like it.”

Banter was so easy with Renee.

“Well, start feeling like it. She’s coming back.”

Anais sat across from them with her cup topped with heart-shaped foam, and took a long sip. “Okay. We can start.” She smiled and sat her cup on its saucer with a _ting_.

He pressed record.

[ Record On ]

He started with the usual: Location, Date, Name, How to spell it.

Then, he got into the meat of the story.

“So, tell us, in your own words, about the day you saw Nathaniel.”

Anais took a deep breath and laced her fingers on the table.

“Well, I was 11 years old and I was with my family at le Fête de la Musique-”

“Tell us about that,” he interrupted.

There was no hesitation. She flowed into the explanation easily.

“It is held here in Strasbourg, every June. It is a large music festival where performers line the streets to play their music. It is a family event. Many people and children running around, enjoying the day.”

“Okay,” Andrew nodded. “So, what happened when you were 11? What year would this have been?”

“2003. I was running around with my older brother and some of his friends. They were playing a game of tag and chasing each other through the crowd of adults. I was running too, but I was just the little sister. No one noticed me very much.” She shrugged a thin shoulder and lifted her cup again. She took a small sip before her eyes slightly hardened. Anais continued, “I was swerving around someone when I ran straight into a boy.”

_Buzz._

“A boy.” Andrew paused. There are plenty of kids, it could’ve been anyone. “What did the boy look like?” He leaned forward a little in his seat, arms on the table.

The cup _tinged_ again when she set it back on it’s saucer. Anais mimicked her stance and leaned forward too. “He was small. Maybe eight or nine. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes.” She shook her head as she barreled on, “I know the coloring is wrong. But, I know it was Nathaniel. And...I know I said in the email that his name was Stefan, but it was him.”

Andrew cracked his pinky. “How do you know?” He asked. “How can you be so sure if the coloring is different from what he is naturally?” He’d known, of course, that Nathaniel and Mary had altered their appearances in an attempt to hide. That made vetting what was a real lead from a fake one all the more difficult. Nonetheless, there were a few giveaways that helped and she hit them.

Anais shrugged, her eyes closing for a moment as if she were seeing the young boy again. “It was still his face,” her voice was far off. When she spoke again, it was with more conviction. “He still had the freckles, the dark skin. He still had those lips that made him look as if he were pouting, even when he wasn’t.” She opened her eyes. Andrew watched as they focused back on him as her head idly nodded. “When I saw the family portrait and the photo from Florida on your website, I knew it was him.”

 _Buzz_.

Andrew inhaled a deep, steadying breath. He knew it was him too. He believed her.

“Tell me, what was it about him that made him so memorable? That all these years later, you would recognize him?”

Anais smiled a little. “Well, when I ran into him, he grabbed my arms like he was trying to steady me. He was very nice.” She tapped her finger against the side of her cup. “Spoke french very well, even though I could tell he was a foreigner.”

_French?_

“What did he say?”

She shook her head and shrugged once more. “He just said _‘pardon’_ and tried to leave. But, I grabbed him by the arm and made him stay.” She tilted her head, “I wasn’t lonely. But as I said before, I was the little sister, so no one _really_ played with _me_ . _I_ played with everyone else, if that makes sense? Anyway, I wanted a friend, so I asked him to be on my team so I could finally catch my brother and his friends. He didn’t want to at first - kept looking around, like he was trying to find someone. But eventually, he agreed and we ran around for a while, laughing and playing. It was a lot of fun. I remember being very happy that day.” She smiled softly and looked down at her coffee. She took another sip.

He repeated what she just said in his mind.

 _I remember being very happy that day_.

Andrew’s stomach did a tiny flip. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion, but he was glad - he thought. He was glad that Nathaniel had even that small moment to play and be a normal kid. The picture he had of Mary and Nathaniel on the run, was of a mother and son who talked to no one and didn’t stop moving for very long. The family portrait was filled with horrors that he could scarcely imagine. But, if what Anais was saying was true, it meant that for a moment, just a moment...Nathaniel had a bit of reprieve.

Bee was buzzing in his ear. It wasn’t bad. It was a comforting hum that numbed the anxiety that threatened to settle in his bones. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the tattoo as he cleared his throat and moved on. “What happened then? When you were done playing?”

“Well,” Anais started, sitting a little straighter. “We were only done because Mary came. Her hair was different, too - a weird brownish red color...? She,” Anais pressed her lips together for a moment, but carried on. “She yanked him right as he was running by. I was surprised she did not pull his arm from the socket.” She sighed and looked between Andrew and Renee. “She dragged him away, then. I could not hear what she was saying, but she was angry. He looked back at me once and gave me a sad little smile. I can see it so clearly...” her brows furrowed and she looked out of the window for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

_Buzz, buzz, buzz._

“That’s really helpful,” Renee chimed in. She leaned forward in her seat and asked, “Is there anything else you can tell us? Maybe where they were staying, or where they were going next? Did Nathaniel talk to you at all? Tell you anything?”

Anais looked back at the two of them, shaken from her thoughts. “No. We were running and playing, not talking. He was very quick. Helped me catch all of my brother's friends that day.”

Renee smiled sweetly at her. Andrew couldn’t manage even an attempt at a smile and turned the recorder off.

[ Record Off ]

“Thank you so much,” Renee said, holding out her hand. Anais took it and they shook briefly.

“Of course. I hope this was helpful to you. I really do love the podcast. And I hope you find them. They, or Nathaniel at least, deserve justice.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he gave her a short nod and made his way to the door. Renee closed the conversation for him as he felt the fresh spring air hit his face. He inhaled deeply, his fingers itching for a cigarette. Somehow, he resisted. At least for now. He headed to the car, threw his bag in the backseat, and sat behind the wheel. His fingers restlessly _tap, tap, tapped,_ and he stared down at the keys in his hand, while his tongue fidgeted with his lip ring. He only realized Renee had gotten in the passenger side when the door closed shut.

“At least he had a moment of fun,” Renee finally said, echoing Andrew’s earlier thoughts.

He grunted in agreement and blinked the dryness out of his eyes. “We now know for certain that they changed their appearance. Probably regularly in case anyone was following them. And, we have a name they used.”

_Stefan._

Renee nodded.

It was still a few more minutes of contemplative silence, before Andrew finally put the key in the ignition.

-

Nicky was waiting impatiently for them when they got back to the house.

“So? Did you find anything? Any leads? Were they really here? What year would that have been? I studied abroad remember, maybe I met-”

“They were spotted in Strasbourg, not Stuttgart,” Andrew reminded him. “And the woman we met saw them. That’s all you get to know. Otherwise, it’ll be all over twitter before tomorrow.”

Andrew was tired. The entire ordeal took a lot out of him and all he wanted was to curl up in bed, wish King were here, and sleep for hours. First food, then he’d do just that.

Nicky slid is phone back into his pocket and had the good grace to blush when Andrew looked at him on his way to the kitchen.

“I am insulted you think I would ever do that. I was just...checking my insta, that’s all. Not everything is about you, cousin.”

He at least had the energy to scoff. “Since when? Are there any potato pancakes left?”

-

The trip to Hanover took longer than Strasbourg. It was over five hours away and while Andrew wasn’t excited about driving, it sure as fuck beat flying.

The person they were to meet was a 25-year-old man. He claimed to have met Nathaniel at a small school in Wunstorf, a suburb of Hanover.

Admittedly, Andrew was something close to excited for this interview. This would be a person that had an experience with (perhaps) Nathaniel, that stretched farther than just a one time encounter. According to the email, it spanned over several weeks and Andrew was itching to hear more.

And it was that excitement, that anticipation, that likely staved off his anxiety the entire drive there. Instead, he and Renee spent the trip going over what information they’d already received since being in Europe, and how this interview may be the most important one yet.

They were to meet at Herrenhousen Gardens, a monolithic stretch of aestheticized greenery that went back for centuries. Andrew wasn’t really into the history of the place (that was, shockingly, more Kevin’s area), but when looking up this location, he’d realized that the guy chose this place purely so Andrew and Renee could see how beautiful and wonderful Hanover is. Honestly, if there wasn’t food nearby, Andrew would have refused altogether.

But, upon entering, he had to admit that it was...well. It was beautiful. The air smelled sweet and the sun shone down on them in an oddly comfortable way, as a gentle breeze blew by.

The walk to their agreed upon meeting place was short and Andrew _did not_ find it in himself to enjoy it through the excitement.

As it was, Karl Weber stood beneath a statue of some naked woman next to a lot of very bright flowers. Andrew realized then, he probably looked ridiculous here. All the green, all the color and the _springiness_ of it all was ruining the all-black aesthetic Andrew had donned today ~~every day~~ **.**

There was a wrought iron table and chairs that they sat around, and after initial introductions (Renee shaking Karls' hand, Andrew refusing, Karl discussing the beautiful weather and location all in German and blah, blah, blah), Andrew pulled out his recorder.

“Sprichst du Englisch?” he asked. Karl nodded in the affirmative, so Andrew continued. He set his recorder on the table between them and hit record.

[ Record On ]

They went through the same introductions they had with every other interview. Date, Name, Location, the whole bit.

Once that was out of the way, Karl asked in thickly accented english, “This will be on the podcast?”

Not an uncommon question, so he replied, “Most likely.” Then jumped right into it. “So, you claim to have had contact with Nathaniel. Tell us about it.”

Karl nodded again and leaned towards the mic. Andrew wanted to tell him that was unnecessary, but he didn’t mind if this guy made an ass of himself.

Not like he deserved that. He seemed nice - but. Well.

“I was ten years old and I think he was as well. It was 2004.” _2004\. “_ He went by the name Ben, but I am sure it was him.”

“How can you be so sure?” Andrew asked. Already, Bee was starting up.

“The pictures of when he was a child look just like him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, but it was him. I know it. I recognized his mother too, from when she would drop him off and pick him up. We went to a small community school together in Wunstorf, but he was not there very long.” Karl rubbed his chin like he was trying to solve an unsolvable equation.

“How long is not very long?” Renee asked, making a note on her phone.

“Three months, maybe?”

“Alright. So in those three months, what did you learn about them? What were they like?” Something odd was chewing at Andrew’s center. The tips of his fingers itched and Bee _buzzed_ incessantly in his ear. The buzz wasn’t for caution or emotion, but it was for an odd...bundle of excitement growing within him. He felt close. So, so close. To what? He didn't know.

Karl pressed his lips together as if trying to remember, before saying slowly, “Ben was...very quiet. Never rude, but he didn’t really play with the other children. No sports with the other boys, no nothing. We used to play exy in a field behind the school during free time, and he would always sit under a tree and watch...but he never joined in.”

_An exy fan._

“What else?” Bee was getting louder. He pressed his fingers into the tattoo to try and quiet her down. He wanted to hear everything Karl was saying.

“He was very good at math, I remember.” Karl lifted his brows. “The other boys would ask to copy his work and Ben would always let them. He was a kind kid...” He nodded and rapped the table with his knuckles briefly, then a frown pulled down at the corners of his lips. “We had a field trip one time to a lake. It is called Steinhunder Meer. He went on the trip, but refused to swim. He would not take off his shirt in front of anyone else. Only his socks and shoes to put his feet in the water, while everyone else was splashing around. I thought,” his brows furrowed, “It was weird at the time...but now, I am thinking it was just sad.”

It _was_ sad. But, Andrew had to admit (perhaps to get his mind away from little Nathaniel off to the side from the other kids), he was surprised Mary even let him go on a trip - let alone an actual school, even if it was in a small German suburb.

Idly, he wondered what drove them back to the US. Because according to the timeline, whatever happened in Seattle, happened in July of 2004.

“What about Mary?” Andrew moved on. “Did you have any interaction with her?”

“Not really,” Karl answered, leaning back just a bit. “All I saw of her was when she picked Ben up and dropped him off. I do-” he looked up for a moment and inhaled a quick breath. “I do remember her being very stern with him. Always speaking in hushed whispers. She never talked to any of the other parents.”

_Of course not._

“Alright.” Andrew nodded. “So what happened? Why did they leave?”

Karl’s frown grew and his shoulders shrugged as he looked back to Andrew. “I do not know. One day he was there and the next he was not. I do not think the teachers knew either. They asked us all if anyone had seen him...no one had.”

_Buzz..._

Renee made more notes on her phone and Andrew played with his lip ring for a moment. Slowly, he felt himself receding back into his thoughts, trying to sort through all that Karl told him.

_You’re not done yet._

No. Pulling himself out of his head, he bit down on his lip ring for half a moment and got himself back on track.

“Is there anything else you can think of? Anything odd maybe? Anything that stood out? Habits, the way he spoke, anything?”

Karl considered this. He saw whatever must have been written on his own face a few moments ago, reflected on Karls as he tried to remember. It took only a few seconds before his face drained slowly of color and brows gathered as a grimace shaped his mouth. Karl fidgeted in his seat, then leaned away from the recorder as he raised his eyes to look at Andrew. “There was one thing...” He nodded.

_Buzz -_

“Remember I said he wouldn’t take his shirt off at the lake?” Karl asked.

Andrew nodded. He scratched at his tattoo and felt the excitement that had once gathered in his center, turn to something dark and heavy. He didn’t like where this was going.

Karl nodded as well, small jerky motions. His eyes lowered a fraction. “Well, I know why.”

Something cracked. It was Andrew’s pinky.

“I saw him one time, when he thought no one was looking...” Karl shook his head. “He liked to run and we had a dirt track at school. You know, meant for runners. Anyway, he was running one day by himself before school, and a teacher sent me to tell him to come inside.” Karl wet his lips, paused, shook his head, took a deep breath as if he were steeling himself, then continued. “When I walked out, he had stopped and was just kind of...standing there, trying to catch his breath. He used,” Karl pinched at his shirt, “the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. And when he did, his stomach was exposed.” Karl winced at whatever memory flashed before him. “And I saw them.”

“Saw what?” Renee asked and Andrew was glad she did. He thought he might be sick. He felt like his head was slowly being submerged under water. So far that Bee might not even be able to reach.

“Scars...so many scars. They looked like they were from knives...like he had been cut over and over.” Karl swallowed hard and he closed his eyes. Andrew followed because suddenly, the sun was far too bright.

“He saw me looking and dropped his shirt. He then walked away quickly and they left not long after that.”

[ Record Off ]

-

They didn’t talk until they were back at the hotel. Sitting in the small restaurant downstairs, Andrew idly stirred his melange with a spoon. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep this down, but determined he needed something warm in his stomach, so it was worth a try. Maybe it would keep the bad thoughts at bay, chase the darkness curling and spreading inside of him away.

“How are you?” Renee asked after a fair stretch of silence. He couldn’t hide from her.

Andrew scooped some of the foam and ate it as a test, before setting the spoon down on the saucer.

Rather than run and hide from his thoughts, he voiced them aloud and hoped that maybe, just maybe, it would help.

“What did he endure, Renee? Did Nathan do that to him...? Practice using knives on his small son? I-” he took a deep breath. “I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life and I’ve seen a lot of abuse. I just...” Andrew didn’t know what he was. Very rarely was he ever at a loss for words, but right now, he had none. All the thoughts in his head were jumbled and messy. Like a string tangled into knots, he didn’t know where to start to begin unraveling it all. And that was with _knowing_ Nathaniel and Mary both faced abuse at the hands of Nathan. It wasn’t a stretch...why else would they run?

_The dent in the wall. The blood at the top of the stairs._

**_dont Be Bad._ **

This, however, this felt _different_ in a way. _Revealing_. Was Nathaniel tortured? Did Nathan hold him in that basement? Strap his small body to a table and methodically cut him while he s-

Andrew took his glasses off and flung them on the table. He rubbed his face roughly and left this hand there. Renee touched his arm lightly and Andrew couldn’t help his flinch back.

“I’m sorry...” She said quietly. Andrew heard the drag of her chair against the floor. When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Remember what we talked about in Baltimore? Why we’re doing this?”

Andrew steeled himself with a deep breath and dropped his hands. Bee wasn’t buzzing, but she burned at her place behind his ear. He wanted to scratch at her, at her buzz - anything. He kept his hands in his lap and nodded instead. “Yes. I know, to help them. To tell the truth.” Andrew grit his teeth, then shook his head. Either to disagree with the thoughts pushing by or to dislodge whatever thoughts wanted to _intrude_ , he didn’t know.

What he _did_ know was, “Allison better get me that interview, Renee. I want to be in front of Nathan and I want to ask him. I want him to lie to me. I want to tell him what a worthless waste of space he is and how he'll always be just that, until he dies in prison.”

Renee was silent, only her breathing keeping him from going crazy. He knew her thoughts on emotion driving something so important as an interview with Nathan. But she at least had the mind to keep it to herself and instead say, “I hope you get that chance, Andrew. Allison has enough connections, I think she’ll  come through.”

“She better.”

-

He had nightmares that night.

They were dark and cold. With doors slowly opening while he hid under thin blankets, small beds, confined closets.

_dont Be Bad_

Footsteps echoing on wooden beams, walking _slowly slowly slowly_ so they would not _creak, creak, creak_ in Andrew’s head, his chest, his heart. There were hands that felt and touched, with hot breaths on his skin that had Andrew closing his eyes so, so tight.

But it didn’t matter, because none of it ever helped.

Not when the quiet whispers came, right in his ear, above his body - so close that it chilled his blood.

‘ _A.J.’_

Andrew sat straight up in the bed, hand grabbing the sheets for something, _anything_ . He needed a weapon, his _knives_ \- but it was just empty. The sheets were cold and slick and there was _nothing, nothing nothing_.

 _King_.

He was alone in the dark. Halfway across the world, there was no King to warm his side, no King to climb on his chest and purr. Nothing but himself.

Andrew pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tight. Bee was buzzing in his ear again, but it felt like his head was underwater once more. He couldn’t hear her, she couldn’t get through -

He plunged his hands into his hair and tugged. Tight grip, ripping strands, he tried to ground himself, come back to himself, _help_ himself.

That darkness that had been curling inside of him was spreading throughout his body like the cold rush of fear that _voice_ had sent through his veins. It was paralyzing, leaving him to do nothing but rock and pull and squeeze his eyes tight as inexplicable guilt festered in his chest.

 _I couldn’t help him_.

Not the child Nathaniel had been. If he’s still alive, what kind of nightmares did he have to endure? The horrors -

Andrew lost track of time. The clock on the bedside carried on, the moon outside sunk back towards the horizon and Andrew finally found the strength to unwind himself from his mental bindings.

He took a hot shower, tried to ground himself and chase the cold that had settled over him. Only when he felt raw and stripped to the bone did he get out, and dress himself. He then sat in the chair by the window until Renee knocked on his door when it was time to go.

-

They made a stop for cigarettes on the way back to Nicky’s. He’d tried to go the entire trip without them - he failed. He was itching so badly he thought he may jump out of his skin.

Renee gave him a disapproving look that he ignored. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was smoking in Nicky’s car. He didn’t care that he had quit, picked it up again, then decided on a whim last week that he would try again. He didn’t care that cigarettes could kill him. And that was probably the main problem that he again, completely ignored.

He was retreating and that was dangerous. But alas.

When they got to the house, Renee went inside ahead of him.

Andrew stopped at the front steps and sat. He lit his fourth cigarette and looked at nothing as he inhaled deeply and focused on the warmth curling in his lungs. He heard the door open behind him and didn’t have to look to see Nicky lower himself to the step too.

“Can I have one?” Nicky asked, voice soft and...careful.

Andrew dragged his eyes to his cousin’s face and raised a brow. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” Nicky never smoked in the entire time Andrew had known him.

Nicky pulled back his chin and vehemently shook his head. “No! I want to try it. Is it as cool as you make it look?” He grinned and Andrew couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If Nicky really wanted to use this to try and bond, then fine. He’d choke and give it up anyway. So, Andrew let his lit cigarette dangle from between his lips while he pulled out his pack and withdrew one for Nicky. He lit it with the one in his mouth, then passed it over.

Nicky took a drag and held the stick up in front of him in contemplation. As Andrew expected, he coughed, then coughed some more - then gagged, spit, and coughed again.

It worked.

Andrew laughed. Really laughed. Nicky was right, this was a great way to bond.

Nicky spit again and Andrew’s chest hurt from the energy laughing had pulled from him. “That was a mistake,” Nicky choked out.

Andrew nodded in agreement. “I would say so.” He could still feel his smile lingering on his lips.

With a deep breath, Nicky let it out and made a sound. Shaking his head he moved on. “So, will you tell me what happened, now that I’ve made an idiot out of myself?”

Andrew flicked the ash off the end and took another drag before he shook his head as well. “No,” he said on an exhale. “I don’t think I will. It’s nothing to do with you.” He looked to his cousin's face and read the disappointed look he gave him. “It’s not mine to tell, I don’t think. Not this one...” He turned his eyes away and watched the smoke curl from the end of his cigarette. “I’m not going to put it in the podcast or the audio notes. It won't make a difference and it just feels...like it’s too much.”

“Hmm,” Nicky mused, then asked honestly. “What’s the difference then? Between this and the writing on the closet wall?”

Andrew thought about that for a moment. It was a good question and it slightly caught him off guard. What _was_ the difference?

It was a question that _shouldn’t_ require a stalled answer. The difference was that this was someone’s body. The difference was that Andrew just _felt_ like it was different. He couldn’t explain it to himself and he wouldn’t even try to start with Nicky. That would require telling him what _it_ was and that...

It just felt wrong.

“There’s just a difference,” Andrew decided. “That’s all you need to know.”

Nicky handed Andrew the still lit cigarette and gave him a small, non-intrusive smile. “Then that’s all I need to know.”

-

On Thursday, the call came - the one he’d been waiting for.

He stared at the name on his phone before answering, hoping this was the news he wanted and not just a ‘just because’ call.

It wasn’t.

This was it.

 _‘I got it, Monster.’_ came Allison’s voice from over the phone. _‘Just you, the psychopath, and probably some men with guns. You’ll have half an hour with him and there will be two CO’s with you at all times.”_

_Buzz._

“When?”

Skip the conversation, skip the bullshit.

 _‘You have to call and schedule it, I’m not your assistant.’_ She sounded disgusted.

~~Good.~~

“Speaking of assistants, how is Dion by the way? Has his voice come back or-” It was kind of like poking a really fussy bear. Allison had just landed him the interview of a lifetime and he was still here, finding ways to get under her skin.

 _‘You’re such a fucking prick. Which,’_ Allison’s voice took on a new tone. It was light and he could hear her fucking smile. _‘Is why I have the absolute, great pleasure in telling you that there is a stipulation.’_

Fuck.

_‘My contact wants you on her sh-’_

“Who.”

No.

_‘Eager? It’s Kathy Ferdinand.’_

**_No._ **

_‘She wants to interview you about the podcast and your research for a segment.’_

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. You expect _me_ to go on TV? And do an interview? Are you insane? Abby will never allow me to get myself - and in turn, all of you - in trouble on television.” There was no fucking way. Cameras in his face? People trying to put makeup on him? Dress him? _Kathy fucking Ferdinand?!_ Televisions resident bitch and the worst kind of gossip mongering whore Andrew could possibly fucking think of?

Allison _would_ be friends with her.

 _‘Too bad, so sad. She’s already agreed and you have to do that interview before you can even step a toe inside the prison.’_ Allison sounded very pleased with herself. Andrew ground his teeth in an attempt to hold back the venom he so desperately wanted to spit.

_Buzz._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

_Buzz._

Calm down. Sacrifices have to be made. Nathaniel sacrificed so much. You can do the same for the chance to find him.

“Fine. Fucking fine. Just make it happen soon. I’ll be on a flight home tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and tossed it on his bed.

This was going to be a disaster, he had no doubt. But, he had to do it. He _had_ to. He _owed_ Nathaniel that, didn’t he...? To take whatever lead, whatever opportunity he could for just the slightest chance it may bring Mary and Nathaniel closer to justice?

He left his room to find Renee chatting with Nicky and Erik in the kitchen. She turned to look at him and caught sight of his face.

“She did it, didn’t she?” She asked. How she knew that’s what he was coming to talk to her about, he didn’t know.

Nonetheless.

“She did,” he nodded. “And in the process, promised me to a TV show for an interview.”

“What?!” Nicky screamed. “A TV show?! That’s so fucking cool, oh my god - what show?”

Ugh.

“Kathy Ferdinand.”

Nicky screamed louder. Erik put his hand on his husband's shoulder and was looking like he was trying very hard not to smile. At least he could read a fucking room. “OH MY GOD, ANDREW! I love Kathy! God, she’s such a petty bitch and I fucking love it. Ugh, I’m so excited. I wonder if I can get more time off for the taping. Do you think I could?” He turned towards Erik, then away again to drill Andrew some more in nearly the same breath. “When is this happening? Oh fuck, what am I going to wear...?”

“No. You can’t come. It’s bad enough with all the fucking random people that will be in the audience.” He cracked his pinky and fought against rolling the stress out of his neck. “It’s happening as soon as possible. I have to do it before I speak to Nathan.” Andrew finally walked the rest of the way to the kitchen table and collapsed in a chair. He was suddenly very tired.

“ _Oh_ . She’s _smart_. Very smart,” Nicky nodded, wisely.

Andrew ignored him and directed his attention to Renee. “We need to change our flight. I know we have one interview left, but this _seems_ more important. We can skype them, whatever. I want to get home as soon as possible. I need to research, prepare, figure out the logistics of the Nathan inte-”

“Andrew,” Renee interrupted. “We’ll fly home tomorrow. Everything's going to be fine. We’ll make this happen, okay? This is a _good_ thing. This is what you wanted.”

Then why did he still have a bad feeling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This coming week is going to be extremely busy for all of us. Please keep an eye out on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for updates. A lot is going to be happening and we don't want anyone to get lost!  
> If you are not subscribed already, please subscribe so you can see any and all updates here as well. Big things are coming that you don't want to miss!  
> As always if anyone has any leads, please email us at foxholenetwork@gmail.com. As you can see, your help really matters to us. So, thank you.  
> See you all for our next upload!  
> Keep Searching. - R
> 
>  
> 
> [Read the Transcript for Audio Notes #3 HERE.](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1REtsWlFf1c0bLBOCgEfLssP9tfEPiMSXbB0XGI_bQSg/edit?usp=sharing)


	7. Kathy Ferdinand - Episode #412

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard appears on Kathy Ferdinand's morning talk show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the Creators:
> 
> So! Switching things up a bit :) We decided to release this now, so that people interacting with the RR world can have it in real time. With that being said! If you are in character and interacting with the world, the same concept that we have with the Audio Notes apply here! Anything between [ Action ] and [ Cut ] is what you know! We'll be dropping the transcript tomorrow, so watch out for that in case you want to peel it apart and all that good stuff!
> 
> Don't forget to keep an eye out this week on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) . More stuff will be dropping that you definitely don't want to miss! Things are getting spicy now ;)
> 
> I think that's it! Enjoy this minichapter and check out our [posters](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185211453540/watch-andrews-interview-from-this-mornings-kathy) for the show!

Andrew woke up with one hand in King’s fur and the feeling of absolute dread churning in his stomach.

This was going to be a fucking shit show.

It was 4AM and the alarm on his phone was blaring. King huddled closer into him as if that would block out the sound. He wished he could do the same, but today was the day - the worst _fucking_ day. He was going to sell his soul for an interview with Nathan Wesninski.

To Kathy _fucking_ Ferdinand.

Andrew forced himself to sit up and turn his alarm off. The movement made King only creep closer, chasing the warmth that Andrew was leaving. His hand remained in her fur as he stared at the numbers and watched them turn from 4:00 to 4:01. He groaned to himself as he tossed his phone back onto the nightstand and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes.

He’d agreed on this appearance on the stipulation that Kathy made the interview with Nathan happen.  Kathy, unfortunately, would be the one calling the shots. Which meant he had to comply like a good little soldier until the show was filmed and ready to be aired - which sounded fairly open ended but really, it wasn’t. Abby already told him several times that he would have to _behave_ and keep that _sharp tongue_ in check.

Whatever.

After several minutes of rubbing small circles into his eyes, he finally gave King one last pet, then rolled out of bed and made his way to the shower. Cold water shocked his skin, stripping away the exhaustion bit by bit as he stood beneath the stream and waited to feel at least semi human. When that felt partially achieved, he switched it to hot and felt his body attempt to shift to the dramatic change.

Once he got out, he shaved, brushed his teeth, did his hair, changed out a few of his piercings to be rainbow bright (because he was feeling particularly gay that morning), touched up his Essie Licorice polish, and made a to-go cup of coffee as King tiredly nibbled at the food in her purple bowl.

_Same._

Once they were situated, he and King made their way downstairs to the Maserati and then to the Tower.

The whole team was due to meet there at 5AM so they could drive as a unit to Raleigh. Which was really fucking ridiculous, to be honest. Andrew didn’t need the entire team there, but they all insisted and his anxiety was strung too tight for him to really argue. The only person that would be left behind was Kevin. And since Bee would be working all day, he had the absolute pleasure to watch over King. Andrew would have taken her with them, but it was a long drive and she certainly wouldn’t appreciate being in a car for hours at a time.

There was, however, an added perk to being up at the asscrack of dawn. Kevin had to get up stupid early to be at the studio on time for no other reason than to keep King company. Really, she could’ve just hung out and napped on her chair in Andrew’s office on her own. But... well, she really preferred company and Andrew really preferred inconveniencing others.

When he walked into the studio, Kevin was nodding off on the couch in the lounge - head lolling to the side and cup of coffee tipping dangerously towards the floor. Andrew quietly walked up behind him with King purring in his arms and leaned down to his ear.

 _“Exy is a pathetic waste of time,”_ he whispered and took great joy in watching Kevin startle awake and spill coffee on himself.

Kevin spun around with a startling rage in his eyes that dampened immediately to defeat when he saw who it was. “Of course it’s you. You’re such an asshole,” he sighed and looked down at the coffee spreading on his shirt.

Andrew gave a small mock bow and retreated to his office. Setting King down, he watched her jump on her cat tree as he let his bag fall to the floor. Once she seemed situated, he reached up and took her face gently in his hands. “Feel free to torture Kevin, okay?” he said quietly. “He hates being licked by animals, as you well know, so feel free to do that an awful lot while you’re here.” He scratched behind her ears and felt the anxiety bundling in his chest slowly give way. “Also,” he continued, “you should hide at some point. Really well this time to make him think he lost you. I’m looking forward to getting a panicked text. You got it?” King nuzzled his chin with her face and Andrew couldn't help but nuzzle her back.

“Do you really think she understands you or is this some form of psychosis?” Andrew turned to find Kevin leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a giant coffee stain still wet on his white shirt.

“We’re just discussing your imminent demise, that’s all.” Andrew gave King one more scratch and rub, before turning around. “Is everyone else here yet?”

“Just arrived. They’re waiting for you in the lounge.”

Andrew nodded and picked his bag back up. Kevin stepped in his way as he tried to leave his office.

“Listen...” he started, holding his hands up, but keeping them to himself. “Do you know what you’re doing? What you’re going to say - Andrew.” Kevin’s eyes were... something Andrew didn’t wish to place. His face was pulled tight with worry. “I know you know this, but Kathy Ferdinand is a snake. She’s going to try and catch you off guard.”

Andrew rolled his eyes because that was his automatic response to everything. Was he nervous? Yes. But not because of _Kathy_ , it was because of _himself_ . Kathy could say all she wanted, it was her show - it was just a matter of how _he_ would handle it. Because really, his reactions were all that mattered. She literally held his ability to advance this case in the palm of her hand. Which was why he said, “A gossip TV host is going to try and sensationalize this? Are you serious? I’m shocked.” His face felt blank and his voice deadpanned.

Kevin wasn’t deterred.

“I’m serious. I’ve done her show a couple of times and you really have to know how to get her in check and keep her on track.”

Andrew had enough. With a firm nod he forced out, “I’ll be fine.” Before moving to leave.

Kevin turned to let him past - if only so they didn’t touch.

-

Andrew and Renee took the Maserati while the rest of the team split up amongst their various cars. No one tried to ride with Andrew - not after seeing the look on his face when he entered the lounge.

Nonetheless, although he was dreading the taping, he was excited about the Mas’s first road trip. That, if anything, helped to calm him down as they made the long drive to the studio. It even allowed Renee to throw questions at him on the way to see how he’d respond. They’ve been doing this throughout the week, but he supposed extra practice wouldn’t hurt.

“So, Andrew. I hear you’re super gay. Tell me about that.” Renee started, watching Andrew’s face.

As it was, his brows furrowed and he tucked in his chin. “Are you kidding? She can’t do that.”

“Oh?” Renee raised a brow, “Why not?” She asked mildly. “She’s a gossip TV host, Andrew. She’s going to go for the throat. What if she _did_ ask that? How would you respond?”

 _Ugh_.

Andrew shook his head. “I’m not talking about it.” It wasn’t that he was ashamed or that he was hiding it. He wasn’t and he didn’t. He wore small symbols of his pride every day and that spoke enough. Everyone knew he was gay anyway. It was just a fact of his life. However, talking about it publically made it into something else. It made him into a role model, a spokesperson for the gay community, and that made the scrutiny that much worse. Not for _himself_ , but as soon as he fucked up - and he would - it’d be a poor reflection on the community because that’s what the media did. He wasn’t going to entertain that.

“I swear, I’ll walk off the stage.”

“And lose the interview with Nathan?” she replied quickly. She was fucking right and he was stupid to not have thought about it before.

“Ask another one.”

-

By the time they arrived at the studio, Andrew’s nerves were right back to being bundled nice and tight in the center of his chest. Not even the feel of the Mas underneath him could completely make them stay buried underneath his emotional baggage where they belonged.

They walked in together as a team, Andrew in front with his sunglasses still on and a garment bag over his arm. A producer greeted them upon arrival and led them to the back where a tall woman with a blonde dye job and heavy tits spilling out of her shirt greeted them.

“Andrew!” Kathy called, shiny white teeth all on display. He was glad he kept his sunglasses on. “Thank you so much for agreeing to do the show! We’re all so excited to have you and to hear more about the podcast!”

_I’m sure._

_Buzz_

Andrew swiftly stepped out of her way when she reached out with pink taloned fingers to grab him or hug him or maybe even neither of those things. It didn’t matter. He needed as much distance between them while he could get it, before he’d inevitably be pushed on a stage and forced to sit beside her.

Naturally, he didn’t respond and the only tell of her agitation was a slight tightening at the corner of her lips.

Allison made herself especially useful (again. Since when did she become so helpful?) as she stepped out of the group and effectively distracted Kathy.

“Alli!” Kathy squealed, “It’s been too long!” Allison smiled and hugged her, immediately pulling her into conversation.

Andrew briefly thought about Mean Girls, then turned to focus half of his attention on the producer gesturing for him to follow. “Andrew, you’ll come backstage with me. The rest of you can go ahead and make your way to the audience.” She pointed towards the signs posted in glowing pink letters above the doors. “Follow the signs.”

“Renee stays with me,” Andrew said, wrapping a hand around her arm as if daring someone to try and take her away. He felt her take a step closer.

“Fine,” The producer turned and the two of them followed, while the rest of the team made their way to their seats.

All except Dan.

She walked up to Andrew and kept pace with him as she lowered her voice, “Listen, I know you know this, but this lady is a fucking weasel. She says problematic shit all the time, okay? Don’t let her corner you.”

If one more fucking person tried to tell him what a horrible person Kathy _fucking_ Ferdinand was, he was going to fucking lose it.

"Oh Captain, my Captain.” Andrew put a hand to his chest and bowed his head. “If you didn't want us to hit the iceberg, you never should have let Reynolds at the wheel. Have fun going down with the ship."

He turned to keep up with the producer.

They were led through a series of winding halls, up a short set of stairs, to a door with his name and the Red Rabbits logo plastered onto it. The dressing room was filled with racks of too-bright clothes, mirrors, makeup chairs, etc. Andrew took off his sunglasses and put on his regular prescription so he could see normally, handing the case to Renee when he was done.

“Hi!” A girl with equally big glasses and a nose ring _skipped_ over to them.

_Buzz._

He hated her already.

“I’m Meka! We never got a response on sizes for you, so I’ve got a big array here we can try. If you go ahead and strip down to your underwear, we can start finding the perfect outfit!”

Her enthusiasm was too much for 7AM in the fucking morning. Her loud voice was piercing through his carefully crafted psyche and her personality was a god damned exclamation point.

Before he could literally snarl at her, Renee positioned herself in front of him and explained, “Andrew has his own clothes. He won’t need any of yours. Where can he change?”

Meka’s smile faltered. “But... I’m supposed to dress him. He has to be in Kathy approved clothes...”

_What the fuck is this place?_

Andrew opened his mouth to say something completely regrettable, but Renee got there first. “You’re not going to dress him. Let’s just go ahead and accept that,” she said, sweet smile in place. Andrew watched her, brows slightly drawn together. Renee, with her rainbow tipped hair, serene face, button-down shirt and flowing skirt. He was delighted to see that sharpness that initially made him curious about her, gleam in her normally calm eyes. “Now,” her tone lightly flipped, “where can he change that has some privacy?”

Meka, with some trepidation, directed Andrew to a bathroom down the hall and he locked himself in a stall. He honestly wouldn’t have minded changing in front of just Renee. It was all the random stragglers seemingly passing in and out of this place that was the issue. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a camera in there, set up with the sole purpose of catching guests scratching their ass or something.

Andrew pulled out his black pants and fitted, striped, purple shirt which he rolled up the sleeves to expose his black armbands. Once they were on, he let himself out of the stall and re-laced his boots, before checking himself in the mirror once, then making his way back to the dressing room where he’d left Renee. Allison was there when he walked in, standing a little too close to Renee and tugging on a piece of her hair.

“Why are you here?” he asked, setting the garment bag on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest.

Allison’s brow rose immediately upon seeing him. “Good lord, Monster. Get your fucking pecs under control.”

Andrew smirked. He knew he looked good in this shirt. It’s why he wore it. “Never.” His smirk dropped. “Now, why are you in here? Did you come to tell me what a horrible human being Kathy Ferdinand is like everyone else has today?”

Allison finally stepped away from Renee and up to Andrew. She liked doing this, as if reminding him that she was a head taller on a good day, and even more so in her heels - like that would make him cower. It’s like she had no idea he’d been short his entire life and could still break her windpipe if he wanted to.

“She’s not a horrible person.” Allison rolled her eyes. “She got me my start. Interviewed me when no one else would. Don’t be rude to her.” She punctuated this with a finger in Andrew’s face and it took everything he had not to grab her hand and twist it around to her back.

“Go sit down, Reynolds. I’ll be as rude to her as necessary.”

Allison opened her mouth to say something else, just as Meka walked over.

“Oh! You look great! Okay, so we just need to do hair and makeup next. If you’ll j-”

“No.”

Meka stopped short, pulled her chin back and blinked at him. She took a deep breath and tried again. “We really need to just add a little powder-” She was practically talking through her teeth in a poor attempt to keep her smile in place.

“No,” he repeated.

Allison walked to the vanity and looked through what they had to offer. “It’s not _unmanly_ to fucking wear makeup, Minyard. Just put on a little so the lights don’t-”

“Allison,” Renee spoke up. She shook her head for Allison to stop. Allison glanced at Andrew and rolled her eyes once more as she put her hands on her hips.

Meanwhile, Meka’s veneer finally cracked and Andrew was quite pleased with himself. “Fine.” She nodded, “Look like a shiny idiot on TV. We’ll mic you and be done.” She turned to grab the mic pouch.

“I’ll do it myself,” he said, watching her trample around the dressing room.

Meka shoved the mic into his chest and left the room muttering to herself about how she doesn’t get paid enough.

He began the process of untucking his shirt, then running the mic underneath when he heard a huff. He looked up to find Allison still standing by the vanity. “What, Reynolds? Why are you still here?”

She sucked on her teeth for a second before saying, “Not that I care, asshole - but... just try and stay a step ahead of her.” She turned and stomped out of the room. Andrew and Renee watched her go.

“That’s the nicest thing she’s said to me since she told me I was invited to the barbeque,” Andrew said. Renee laughed and patted him briefly on the arm.

“I have to go get seated. Good luck out there, okay? If anyone can handle her, it’s you.”

-

Andrew found himself sitting on a white chair, twenty minutes later. Kathy walked out of the backstage area, going over notes on a tablet with someone as she sat in her seat. Her hair shone beneath the bright lights like she was in a fucking Pantene commercial, and her lips were painted a shiny shade of pink. He hoped it got on her pearly white teeth.

Once she waved them away, she finally turned to look at Andrew - bright smile on display and eyes shining with mischief.

_Buzz._

“Nervous?” She asked.

Bee was quiet, humming softly in his ear that he took as comfort, rather than nerves.

“No. You?”

Kathy laughed and shook her head. “Oh, Andrew. We’re going to have _so_ much fun today.”

“Can’t wait.”

Someone in the media ‘pit’ started counting down.

[ Action ]

Andrew heard the nauseatingly upbeat show music start. The lights really were bright, making it hard to see the crowd. Luckily, everyone even minorly important sat in the first and second row. Abby and Wymack sat behind Seth, Dan, Renee, and Allison. Andrew assumed they came because Abby wanted to make sure he didn’t do/say anything stupid and Wymack came because Abby did.

Whatever.

Andrew was pulled out of his thoughts by Kathy’s voice.

“Welcome back, lovelies! I told you I had an _amazing_ treat for you today, and here he is!” She gestured towards Andrew and the crowd applauded louder.

 _Ugh._ He fucking hated this.

“With me here, as you all know, is Andrew Minyard. Former journalist and host of the wildly popular, Red Rabbits podcast. Andrew, thank you _so_ much for joining us!”

Andrew looked at her blankly. “I’m still a journalist,” he said, not missing that shady ass comment.

Bee was picking it up now, a soft and gentle _buzz_ in his left ear.

“Of course, of course!” Kathy placated. “Why don’t you tell us a little about that? Now, you were fired from the Boston Globe. Are you doing the podcast because you’re no longer able to publish as a journalist?”

 _Oh._ Hah. Oh, she was good. She thought she was fucking smart.

Andrew gave her a one-sided smirk. “Great question, Kathy. Is that what happened with you? You were a news anchor on your local station before sludging through gossip columns, right? Did you decide on this because you were no longer able to anchor real news?”

Kathy laughed while the audience tittered nervously. “I’ve worked my way up, that’s for sure!” Her smile was even more blinding. Andrew let his smirk die and his face go blank.

Kathy shuffled some papers on her desk and cleared her throat before continuing. “So, the podcast is all about the Butcher, correct?”

Andrew sighed before he answered. “No, it’s not about _Nathan Wesninski_. It’s about Mary and Nathaniel, his wife and son, and their disappearance.”

Kathy nodded seriously, resting her hand on her taloned fist. “Hmm... Yes, I see, I see. So, I suppose my next question would be, why bother? I could see doing a podcast about the Butcher, seeing as he’s so popular right now-”

“That’s why I’m not doing a podcast about _Nathan._ People like you in the media give him a disgusting amount of attention, and yet, no one is talking about his missing wife and son. I wonder why that is?”

Kathy’s jaw tensed for a moment. It seemed _she_ didn’t miss _his_ ‘ _people like you’_ comment. Good.

“Let’s talk about the fact that your team is seemingly, actively working against you.” She sat up straight and lightly tapped on the desk. She glanced at her cards just for show, then focused her brown eyes on him deviously. “I saw where a large part of _your_ story was redacted from the first episode. Do you, by any chance,” she waved her hand, “think that’s because you’ve proven yourself to be so unstable with the loss of your job at the Globe?”

_Buzz._

He ignored the unstable comment. “I think it’s because the truth is very big and that can be daunting for some people.” Andrew kept his hands in his lap, tightly clasped between his thighs as he resisted the urge to scratch Bee behind his ear.

Kathy nodded her head like she knew anything about anything. “So true, Andrew. So true. Now, how about the Moriyamas? You’ve basically insinuated that they purposely misconstrued the Butcher’s story in the documentary, and even suggested they were the reason for your firing. What can you tell me about that?”

He decided not to correct her again and instead answered, “Legally, absolutely nothing.” From the crowd, he could see Abby nodding her head fervently.

“Ah, yes. They’ve sent you a cease and desist, to stop you from slandering their name.”

Andrew tilted his head as if saying, _eh_.

“Well, fortunately, we have someone here who may be able to help!” Kathy said and tapped the table.

Andrew swung his head to look at Kathy, while the crowd went nuts. The opening notes to a melody, Andrew belatedly recognized as the overture for _The Butcher_ documentary, began to play overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Riko Moriyama to the stage!” Kathy clapped and stood to walk around her desk. Some stagehand from the pit brought another white chair up to hug the other side of Kathy’s signature glass desk, as the camera panned to Riko _fucking_ Moriyama making his way from backstage.

_You’ve got to be - buzz - fucking - buzz - kidding me._

Riko was all smiles and charm, looking fit and handsome in what was surely an outfit approved by Meka. Riko and Kathy clasped hands and he kissed her on the cheek before she gestured him to sit in the chair across from Andrew’s.

He looked at Andrew and Andrew couldn’t help letting out a sarcastic laugh.

Of course. _Of course._ He should’ve seen this coming.

“Have you two met?” Kathy asked, sitting back down behind her glass desk and crossing her legs. Her finger pointed between the two of them.

They hadn’t. But Andrew’s heard his fair share of what type of maniac Riko _fucking_ Moriyama was.  

“Andrew, this is Riko Moriyama and Riko, this is Andrew Minyard. So wonderful to have both of you on the same stage!” The audience cheered again and Andrew turned his head to see the entire team in various states of panic. Renee was actually trying to get out of her seat, but Dan and Allison were holding her in place.

“Now! Riko... I know you were listening backstage. What do you make of what Andrew has suggested about your family?”

Riko took a deep breath as if he were steeling himself, then furrowed his brow and focused his entire attention on Kathy. “Well, Kathy. We’re all very concerned and quite frankly, confused. Edgar Allen Productions prides itself on doing the best work we can, and we always strive to report everything as accurately as possible in our documentaries. It really is a shame that Andrew,” Riko looked to him now, “didn’t reach out to us before starting this whole thing. I’m sure we could’ve cleared the air.”

_Buzz._

It was growing louder. Andrew tilted his head and pressed his shoulder to the tattoo briefly before cutting Kathy off. “Who is we?” He raised his brows. “As I understand it, you play exy and have absolutely nothing to do with your brother’s business. Are you involved in the decision making at EAP now?”

That was another thing he’d gotten out of Kevin over the years. More pieces of the story that made up the fucked up life he’d lived, before showing up at the Tower. At some point, Kevin told him how the Moriyamas main family branch was stationed in New York, and they didn’t communicate with Riko beyond instructing him on what to do or say.

“I think the fact that I’m the one here, says enough,” Riko responded, his careful mask not slipping one bit.

_Sure._

“If you say so.”

“Riko,” Kathy spoke up, “Would you be willing to sit down with Andrew and have a discussion? I’m sure this is nothing that couldn’t be solved with a nice chat and a hot cup of tea!” Andrew looked at Kathy incredulous as she pulled over her own steaming cup and stirred it with a small spoon and her pinky raised. Riko gave a low laugh from his spot across from him.

“I absolutely would have a sit-down, Kathy. I would love to pick Andrew’s brain about some of the pieces he wrote when he was still a journalist. The foster care piece was _especially_ gripping.” Riko turned his attention to him. “Do you plan on writing anymore about traumatic childhoods? You really seem to have a _knack_ for it.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz-_

He gripped his hands between his knees a bit tighter, but otherwise didn’t let anything show. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“Thanks, Riko. That really means a lot. Do you plan on being involved in anymore documentaries about murdering psychopaths? You really seem to have a _knack_ for it.”

Riko’s smile faltered for the first time, but he recovered quickly by letting out a laugh and shaking his head. “I see why the Globe had their hands full with you.”

“Yes, I’m a real loose cannon. Reporting on corruption and people who fetishize murder and violence,” Andrew responded pleasantly.

“Speaking of violence, how are the men you almost beat to death, all those years ago?” Riko’s eyes flashed something _ugly_ and his brows rose. “One of them was in a coma for quite some time, weren't they?” The ugly look, Andrew realized, was triumph - like he had Andrew cornered.

Andrew turned a raised brow to Kathy, only to see her sipping from her cup and watching them eagerly.

He turned back to Riko.

“They lived, just like my cousin lived because I stepped in when they tried to kill him because of his sexual orientation.” _Buzz, buzz, buzz -_ “Those kind of people don’t deserve any hesitation, I think. I’m sure you would agree, Riko. Or - Oh my, this is awkward...are you also homophobic?”

Andrew heard Kathy cough as quietly as possible as she put her cup down to it’s saucer.

She cleared her throat. “Well gentlemen! We’re running out of time. Is there anything either of you would like to add? Riko?”

Riko, calm as ever, turned back to the audience with his charm carefully pulled back into place. “I would just say, that I’m sorry Andrew did not reach out to EAP sooner. All of this is a misunderstanding. We would still love to have him in a sit-down meeting to discuss the documentary and maybe even help him on his mission to find the mother and son.”

“Mary and Nathaniel,” Andrew corrected. He cracked his pinky and tried to block out the _buzzing_ still humming loudly in his ear.

Riko turned to look at him and gave him a nasty smile. “Right, of course. Mary and Nathaniel.”

“Andrew?” Kathy asked as Andrew stared blankly at Riko. “Anything from you?”

“No.”

“Okay, great! Don't forget to check out Andrew's podcast, Red Rabbits, which drops every Sunday and can be found on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and Stitcher. Next, we’ll be back with our special musical guest and you’ll get to see me attempt to bake a cake in ten minutes! Get ready to laugh!” The music started and Kathy stood to walk around her desk again. Riko stood too and they shook hands once more while the music played around them. Andrew stayed where he was, arms crossed and carefully stamped down rage boiling below the surface. Once it was properly under control, the director called it and he finally stood.

[ Cut ]

He was intent on getting the fuck out of there, hand already at the back of his pants where he’d attached the base to get rid of this fucking mic. Unfortunately, as he turned to walk off the stage, Riko blocked his way and forcefully grabbed his free hand to shake.

Andrew’s skin crawled and it took everything to not punch Riko in his pretty fucking face.

“I hear you have an interview with the Butcher,” he said quietly. Andrew tightened his grip, wanting to feel the bones in Riko’s stupid fucking hand break. A small consolation for Kevin. “Good luck with that.” Riko’s eyes flashed.

Andrew felt his top lip start to curl, but he bit it back as he tilted his head and asked, “Is that a threat?” He adjusted his grip a bit tighter.

Riko winced, if only for a moment, before loosening his own grip and pulling his hand away. “Not at all.” He flexed his fingers once Andrew let go and he regained his composure with that _charming_ smile thousands fell for.

He turned to walk off stage, adding as he went, “Oops.”

_Oops._

Andrew watched him leave, which left him with Kathy as she tried to corner him into a hug on the stage. He quickly dodged her (for her sake really) and Renee caught up with him immediately.

“What did Riko say?” she asked. Andrew could tell she was trying very hard to keep serene Renee in place. He ripped the rest of the mic off and tossed it to some stagehand passing by, without looking to see if they caught it.

“Not here,” he said through his teeth as the rest of the team approached - Allison practically storming over.

“That fucking bitch,” she hissed. “How dare she do that without warning me?!”

“Reynolds.” Allison turned her head to him, nostrils flaring. “I don’t give a fuck, but you better make damn sure I have my interview, understand? I will tear this entire fucking studio down if I don’t get a call from someone _today_.”

He finally lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to his tattoo. She didn’t quiet and the spot was burning. He rubbed at the spot and lifted his eyes to Allison’s when she said, shiny lip curled, “Oh. Oh ho, don’t you worry, Monster. I’ll be right back.”

She stormed off, rage simmering and red bottoms flashing.

Andrew suddenly realized he was really fucking _tired_. As if all the energy had been leached from his body. He ached for a cigarette, he wanted King, and he could feel his mood balancing on a hair trigger.

“Renee, go get my bag where I left it. I’m not going back there and risk running into Riko. One of us will be dead before we leave and it won’t be me.”

Renee nodded and disappeared, skirts flowing around her.

Andrew turned back to the team. Seth was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking around.

“Do you think I could get Kathy’s autograph? I fucking love that bitch,” Seth was still looking when Wymack shoved him towards the door.

“Get in the fucking car Gordon, if you’re going to be such an idiot. She just tried to take Minyard apart on camera...” his voice trailed off as he dragged Seth to the car.

“Andrew-”

“Not now, Abby. I said what I said and I can’t take it back and I honestly don’t give a fuck right now.”

Abby smiled a little, her warm eyes gleaming as she continued anyway, “I was just going to say you handled that well. Most people would’ve bucked, but you didn’t falter. I bet Bee is proud. I am. Great job.”

Andrew blinked at her as she turned to make her way after Wymack.

Bee suddenly stopped and he dropped his hand. Inhaling a deep breath, he closed his eyes, then opened them on the exhale.

And then there was one. Dan looked steadily at him.

“You make the most out of the Nathan interview, got it? You just put up with a lot of bullshit. Give Nathan hell in return.”

“It was never going to be any different,” Andrew replied.

Dan nodded and turned to leave. Allison and Renee returned at the same time.

“I just let Kathy know what I thought about that little stunt,” Allison said, neck swiveling. “I made her call her contact while I was standing there. You should get a call to set it up soon.”

Renee smiled up at Allison and only broke away to hand Andrew his bag.

He didn’t bother changing into his other clothes. He wanted to get out of there as fast as fucking possible, so they walked outside and Allison broke off to join Seth at her car.

Andrew’s fingers itched, his chest ached, and he mumbled, “I need a fucking cigarette,” as he leaned against the Maserati.

Renee took up the spot next to him and nudged him with her shoulder gently. “You did a good job,” she started quietly. “You showed a lot of restraint that college Andrew would not have shown.”

Andrew shrugged as he dug through the garment bag, into the pocket of his previous pants and pulled out his pack and lighter. “He knew about my past. The traumatic childhood comment. He knew I was in foster care.”

“So?” she said. “So what if he does? That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Andrew shook his head, closed the bag, and set it on the pavement. He fished out a cigarette. “But _how much_ does he know, Renee? Does he know about... _other_ things?”

Drake? Tilda? The cutting, the drinking -

“I don’t think you need to worry about that right now...” Renee said softly. “They don’t have any reason to use it against you, even if they do know.”

He put the stick between his lips and inhaled as flame flashed before his face and he watched the end ignite. He took his first long drag, feeling the burn in his throat, the smoke gather in his chest and radiate warmth down towards his center.

“Yet,” he finally said, letting the smoke out and watching as it curled up towards the clouded sky.

“Yet,” she agreed, nodding.

Andrew’s phone then buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, it was a number with no caller id. He answered it, not able to help his curiosity.

_This time._

_“Andrew Minyard?”_ a voice asked.

“What?”

_“This is Clarissa Gray with North Branch Correctional Institution. I understand you’re requestiong an interview with Nathan Wesninski?”_

“Yes,” Andrew said, standing up straight and looking at Renee.

_“The earliest you can come is Friday at 10AM. You’ll have half an hour with Wesninski and only you are allowed in.”_

“No. I need one other person there,” he said. He flicked his eyes back up to Renee and she gave him an encouraging smile

_Buzz_

_“You can bring someone else, but they can’t come into the room when you do the interview. Security purposes. It’ll be you, Wesninski, and two correctional officers. Take it or leave it,”_ Clarissa said, sounding bored.

“Fine. We’ll be there Friday morning.” Andrew hung up the phone and stared at his cigarette in something akin to... shock?

“We got it,” Renee whispered.

Andrew nodded and took one long drag, then flicked the rest of the cigarette away. He turned towards her, exhaling and nodding.

“We got it.”

He just hoped they could hold onto it.

 _Oops_.

He was only able to properly _breathe_ and let out a little laugh when he got a panicked text from Kevin.

_‘Did you leave the door open on your way out?!’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! We're having so much fun with this and we seriously thank you all for keeping up with us. We say this every fucking time but truly, we're blown away.  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Thank you for all the love and support <3 <3 <3  
> See ya guys soonnnnn!  
> \- Creators


	8. North Branch Correctional Institution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Renee arrive at North Branch Correctional Institution in Cumberland, Maryland for their interview with Nathan Wesninski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** These are not audio notes. They are just insight on current events, for those playing along with the world. The [ Record On/Off ] will not correspond with a transcript. Yet. ***
> 
> CW:  
> Mention of past rape/child abuse - nothing explicit. follows Andrew's traumatic past

Andrew and Renee arrived late Thursday afternoon in Cumberland, Maryland. Both were silent as they made the hour long drive to their hotel in a much nicer rental than Dan booked them the last time they were here.

Andrew hadn’t relaxed in days. He felt drawn tight like a rubber band about to snap. Everywhere hurt. His head, neck, arms, back - anxious tension vibrated throughout his muscles and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

At first it was because of the show. Kathy and Riko had wrung him dry and afterwards, despite the _positive_ call he’d gotten from the prison, he was exhausted. It was like in the past few days, everything was just _go, go, go_ . He spent every moment he could focusing on questions to ask, questions not to ask, how to hold himself, what was imperative and what wasn’t. On a good day, Andrew did a great job giving off a bored, unimpressed facade. But he wasn’t quite able to hold it up. Not as Riko’s ‘ _oops’_ echoed through his head and the days ticked by - creeping closer and closer to the moment he would face _Nathan Wesninski._

And now it was nearly here.

No amount of coffee could cut through the haze as he stared forward and repeated all they’d gone over in the past few days, over and over in his head. It wasn’t until Renee broke the silence that he blinked several times and glanced towards her out of the corner of his eyes.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“Yes.” The answer was automatic. That was good. He didn’t have to think about it, despite the fact that he inhaled a deep breath directly afterwards and gripped the wheel a fraction tighter.

He _was_ ready.

He had his questions and he had his counter questions when Nathan inevitably gave the answers he expected. He even had parts of this episode written out in his mind. He knew exactly what he wanted to say about all of this, before it even happened.

That meant Andrew was prepared, but that still didn’t stop the anxiety.

They finally pulled up on a Comfort Inn & Suites. The sky was gray and it fit the drab landscape stretching before them. The grounds were neat, but the flowers were poorly kept even as sprinklers sputtered over them. Andrew peered out the windshield as they parked and grimaced. Neither of them made a move to get out, so he slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes with his head tipped against the headrest.

“Why am I doing this, Renee?” he finally asked, turning his head to look at her only to find her staring stoically back at him.

“You’re the only one who can answer that question.”

He shook his head, screwing his eyes shut tight once more. “This isn’t going to help me find them.” When he opened them again, he directed his gaze back out the windshield. “He’s not going to tell me if he knows anything. He won’t tell me if they’re dead. He won’t tell me if he knows where they are.” His head shook with each seemingly obvious point he ticked off. “He’s going to smile that murderer’s smile and he’s going to evade. So why in the fuck am I doing this?”

Renee unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted so she was facing him. It only took her a few moments to say, “I think you’re doing this because you want to look him in the eye.” She leaned back against the door and threaded her fingers together in her lap. “I think you want to get insight into what Mary and Nathaniel went through. Does that sound right?”

Andrew chewed something painful into his bottom lip. It was brief, but he was on the cusp of tasting blood before he let go and nodded, “Yeah... That sounds right.” He then inhaled a deep breath, furrowed his brows and looked towards her. “Is it crazy that I think I’ll know if he’s lying to me? If I ask him point blank _‘Are Mary and Nathaniel dead?’_ I feel like I’ll know.”

“Will you stop looking, then?” Renee asked. “If you ask him and you think he’s lying - and that he’s had them killed. Will you stop looking?”

Andrew shook his head again and finally pulled the keys from the ignition.

“I don’t think I can.”

-

Andrew didn’t sleep that night.

He tried.

He really did.

But the effort was as weak as it had been for the nights before.

At least this time he’d gotten himself in bed, made a valiant effort to _try_. But he couldn’t. He’d given up an hour or two into his attempt and spent the rest of the night trying to watch TV and read. He even tried a white noise app on his phone.

His brain just wouldn’t shut off. Subconsciously, he kept going over and over all the possible scenarios. The only productive thing that came from each failed attempt was a question he didn’t realize he needed an answer to, until now.

He wanted to ask Nathan about the Moriyamas.  

Even still, he didn’t really understand what their stake was in this except for the fact they had direct contact with Nathan, via the documentary. Andrew wanted to know what their angle was, where their interests lie and why. If anyone would know, it would be Nathan.

He then briefly wondered if Nathan had seen the doc. He was positive that was not something granted to prisoners, especially not when it could be such an ego stroke - but it seemed as though he may be getting granted things others may not. A documentary with several interviews over the course of however many years, and now another one to an (according to Kathy) ex-journalist? He just didn’t understand.

But playing devil's advocate, what if he had seen it? Was he pleased with how _well_ he was portrayed? Did he even notice where there was barely mention of Nathaniel and Mary? Andrew wanted to crack open Nathan’s mind. He wanted to know the why’s and how’s and what’s.

But again, he would have to be smart about his approach and watch every single step.

Nathan wasn’t only called a monster for the murder he wrecked across the eastern border.

Andrew’s own nickname amongst TFN was Monster. It was something that had started in college when he was a little more reckless and a lot more angry. Allison had recently picked it up after it had fallen ‘out of style’ if you will, over the past few years. He never really minded it and still didn’t, really. It suited him at the time for people to think he was a monster. It kept them away and it weeded out the people who weren’t worth his time - still did on occasion.

But.

_But._

Andrew knew real monsters.

The ones that go bump in the night and haunt your nightmares - the ones that never leave, even when you’re 26 years old and leading the life you’ve fought so hard to lead. The monsters who whisper in your ear and tell you things you wish you could forget, but _he_ knew _he_ never could.

Because _Andrew_ never forgot anything.

The people who call Andrew monster would take it back, he thought, if they knew what was really out there.

That wasn’t why he was doing this though.

Anyway.

What mattered now, was that Nathan was a real monster. And by morning, Andrew would walk into his den, and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

-

He’d been dressed and ready for hours by the time Renee came knocking at his door.

Today, she’d worn pants in lieu of her normal flowy skirts and Andrew was glad for it. He wasn’t sure why, but it must have had to do with the fact they were going to a max security prison today. Andrew was always one to think ahead, and he supposed if he put his mind to it, he’d want her to be able to run if they needed.

Irrational thought - but utterly practical.

They ate a quick and unappetising hotel breakfast, then drove the 20 minutes to North Branch Correctional Institution. Driving down the long, winding road, it was like they were pulling up on something from a movie.

Andrew briefly wondered if something like this would have been his future if Bee hadn’t found him.

That was a thought he quickly dispelled.

The compound was sprawling with a gigantic watchtower at the very center and out buildings ringing around it in four blocks. There were apparently outdoor rec areas bordering the center watchtower, but he couldn’t see much from the parking lot. Nonetheless, Andrew had done his research.

North Branch Correctional was not only one of the ‘toughest’ prisons in america, it was also one of the most ‘high-tech’ - whatever that meant. The pictures online looked barebone like most, but there was a color coding system that seemed to range from block to block. Andrew suspected he would see none of that. The prison would never escort visitors or interviewers deep inside, nor would they bring a prisoner so close to an exit. He presumed the room he would be lead to, would be somewhere in the middle, near the visitation quarters.

Andrew tapped the steering wheel as he parked and once the engine of the rental cut, he looked at the main entrance.

He had to admit, the photos online put a very clinical view on things. Now that he was here, with the institution looming over head, it was completely different. His skin felt like it was crawling and he had to shrug a shoulder to stop a nagging feeling at the base of his neck. Andrew cracked his pinky to dispel the angry itch his fingers twitched with to start a new piece about the US Prison system.

_‘This is the place where monsters come to die, but all they do is fester and thrive...’_

He and Renee were buzzed into the main office building where they entered into a surprisingly normal looking waiting room, complete with mismatched plastic chairs and wide windows. Andrew approached the front desk that was sanctioned off by a pane of glass and speaker. A bored looking guard sat behind it. Andrew told him why they were there and he gestured for them to have a seat as he picked up a phone at his desk.

Renee took one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs while Andrew paced as they waited. He gripped the straps of his backpack in his hands and reviewed once more the questions he had simmering around in his mind, before a woman no taller than he (but a lot wider) entered a few minutes later.

“Mr. Minyard?” He turned towards her quickly as Renee stood at his side and walked towards her. The woman stepped back to allow them to pass as she said, “I’m Clarissa Gray. I’ll be your liaison today. You’re going to come into this room right here to be patted down,” she gestured with one hand to a room on their right.

_Buzz_

They entered to find a male and female Corrections Officer waiting. Andrew was instructed to put his backpack on a metal table to be searched, before being led to the side where the CO’s patted them down for weapons. He had to bite his tongue and close his eyes to stop himself from punching his male CO in the fucking face. Once the man’s hands were off him, he searched his bag and Andrew watched with a tight jaw as they threw out the contents onto a table before haphazardly throwing them back in.

There was an _order_ to these things.

An _order_ , Andrew knew all too well.

Both of their phones were confiscated, but the CO that patted Andrew down somehow missed the small recording device in the inner pocket of his jacket. Andrew had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the insolence.

_They really do a fucking bang up job here._

“You can both follow me,” Clarissa said, and they took off down another set of winding hallways. As they walked, Andrew kept his eyes as firmly forward as he kept his thoughts - straight and unwavering as he focused on one thing and one thing only.

The interview.

Meanwhile, Clarissa fed them a steady stream of information that he barely paid attention to, but Renee nodded when appropriate.

“We’re going to an office near the interview room. You’ll wait there until we’re ready.” She turned her head over her shoulder and looked towards Renee. “Miss...?”

“Renee. Renee Walker.”

Clarissa nodded. “Miss Walker will wait in the room,” she flicked her eyes towards Andrew, “While you go back for the interview.”

Though his stomach gave a lurch at being separated from Renee in such a dangerous place, he’s had time to stifle it down when Clarissa had said it on the phone. Nonetheless, he nodded his head as she carried on.

“Like I said on the phone, there will be two CO’s in the room at all times, and the inmate will be shackled for security purposes. You may bring a pad of paper and a pencil. Pens are prohibited. Your bag will remain in the office with Miss Walker.”

Andrew didn’t bother nodding this time, not as it looked as though they were coming to their stop. He just wanted to get this over with and he’d heard her nonetheless. That was enough.

She lead them through a door at the end of one of the endless white halls. It opened into a similarly stripped, bland room. There were two desks at two corners and a circular table in the center with white chairs stationed at it. There was one CO sitting at the desk, who got up to meet Clarissa in the hall. He took up post on one side of the door while Clarissa said, “I’m going to check the status of the inmate and I’ll be right back.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Andrew and Renee alone together but for the CO stationed outside.

Andrew let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Tilting his head to the side, he felt it crack and he shrugged off his nearly empty bag to place it on the table.

“Can we just get this fucking done?” He muttered, pulling out his moleskin and pencil (he knew how this shit worked). As he set them in front of himself, he closed the bag and pushed his hair off his forehead while Renee looked between the items on the table, then back up to his face. He raised a brow.

“You still have your recorder, don’t you?” She asked, but it wasn’t really a question. She knew.

If he were in the mood, he would have smirked. Instead, he patted his pocket and said, “Real hyper-max fucking prison this is. Oh well.”

Renee smiled at him and shook her head. Andrew put his hand in his pocket and turned the recorder on. Just as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, Clarissa opened the door and popped her head in.

[ Record On ]

“We’re ready for you.”

Renee reached over and Andrew glanced at her. That was enough of a _yes_ for her to squeeze his arm once. It was an odd lending of strength that Andrew was no longer surprised he appreciated from Renee, before he followed Clarissa.

The door closed behind him with a click and he didn't look back. Instead, his eyes were set forward once more as he was led down yet more hallways.

This time, he went over all that he planned to ask Nathan in his head. He tried to use it as another point of strength, something to draw from as he steeled himself for whatever sort of force Nathan would be before him.

Exhaustion crept on his rough, deprived edges, but he held it back as he took steadying breaths and felt the bee behind his ear start to buzz softly in time with his gaining pulse. Indifference was pulled across his face, but he knew his eyes were something wary mixed with a fierceness he could pretend he felt in order to get this interview done and done properly.

_Make it clean._

_Don’t let him get between your cracks._

_Seal them up tight and catch him at his pathetic games._

_He’s a killer, but he is just a man._

_Just a man._

**_Just a man._ **

After Clarissa buzzed them through several sectors with a keycard around her neck, they ended their walk before a door fortified by what looked like thick, white, painted steel with two glaring CO’s standing at either side.

_Ask about the Moriyamas._

Andrew didn’t even spare them a glance as he gripped his pencil and moleskin, and rather than push bee’s _buzz_ away, let it fill his head like white noise to accompany the mantra of reminders repeating over and over.

The door opened to an empty metal room. He supposed, this is what a cell would look like if there were no cot, sink, toilet, etc. There was a high, thin window on the far wall that let in gray light. It bounced off the white walls, light gray cement floor, and metal table at the center. No fluorescents blared, nothing to accompany the _buzz_ in his head.

The entire room smelled metallic.

“You can have a seat at the table,” Clarissa said from beside him, motioning with a hand in his peripheral to the metal table and uncomfortable pair of chairs on either side. He assumed the one away from the door was for him, since the other had shackles drilled into the floor in front of it.

An officer that must have come from one of the other rooms lining the hall, entered as one of the two stationed at the door followed after him. They took positions on either side of the room, facing each other in a formation that flanked Andrew with utter boredom and indifference.

Andrew would be lying if he said that didn’t make feel him more uncomfortable than safe.

“One of the CO’s will lead you back to Miss Walker when you’re done. You have thirty minutes,” she looked down at her watch. “It’s 10:12 right now.”

_10:12_

He made a mental note to write that down once she left.

“They’re preparing to get the inmate to walk him over. It’ll be a few minutes.” With no more comment, Clarissa left the room and Andrew was alone with two large men on either side of him. That prospect set bee buzzing louder as his anxiety rose and he cracked his pinky again in attempt to release some of it - any of it out.

Placing his moleskine and pencil down on the table, he opened to a clean page and wrote _10:13_ at the top, before closing it with the pencil marking the page. He lined the notebook to be perfectly parallel with the edge of the table and settled in to wait with only Bee’s incessant _buzzing_ to keep him proper company.

He waited.

Then waited.

And through the _buzz_ and repetitive thoughts, he let his mind veer down a different path.

_‘This is the place where monsters come to die, but all they do is fester and thrive...’_

This is where the monsters live when they’re caught being bad.

Andrew was bad, once.

Or that’s what everyone said.

He’d been in juvie as a kid, before he lived with Tilda and Aaron - before Bee and Nicky and _normalcy_.

He’d thrown himself on a proverbial sword to escape, to keep his brother away from the one thing that would do more damage than a sword ever could.

But juvie was not like this.

The facility Andrew was committed to was a good one. It had open spaces for activity, classrooms with teachers, and a fairly well stocked library.  

Juvie was probably the second best thing that had ever happened to him - besides Bee.

And now Andrew’s own monster was in one of these places where monsters lived. Officer Higgins, who handled Andrew’s case when he was a minor in Oakland, had contacted him when he was 19 years old. At the time, Andrew was in college at PSU and trying to forget California and it’s demons altogether. But apparently, Andrew seldom got what he wanted.

Higgins wanted information about _Drake._ He’d said he wanted to put _Drake_ away.

Andrew said no.

He said no, because he couldn’t go back to that place in his head - the place where he remembered everything. Every little detail, muffled scream, digging nails and -

But, Bee happened. And she was there. She talked about what Higgins wanted through to him and what it would mean for other kids, for his own closure. So, after an internal battle so severe he couldn’t bring himself to go to classes, let alone leave his room for two weeks, he finally agreed.

At 19, he wrote a witness statement with his name redacted that put _Drake_ away for 15 years.

 _He_ only got 15 years for raping and traumatizing six different kids _that they knew of_ . He _should’ve_ gotten life - 50-60 years at least. But, that was the justice system, wasn’t it?

They saw six children with behavioral issues and the title, _foster,_ hanging over their heads. How could such _children,_ be reliable?

Especially when on the other side, they saw a good looking, white, distinguished marine, and thought, _he made a mistake. He can’t be that bad. He’s so young with his whole life ahead of him._

It wasn’t a fucking _mistake_.

 _Monsters_ come in every fucking form.

The worst of them hide in the guise of what is supposed to be _good_ and -

That was seven years ago. Although Andrew knew the Spear family was trying to appeal and do anything they could to get their sweet baby _monster_ out of prison, Andrew could only hope he was murdered before he could ever make it out.

 _‘This is the place where monsters come to die, but all they do is fester and thrive. They eat and sleep and fight here - in this box that is home; in this place that is cold. It’s a place we think they deserve; a place we put them, in hopes of rehabilitation or whatever else. But this_ **_place_ ** _, this_ **_lair_ ** _, this_ **_hell_ ** _, is where monsters only grow larger because they have each other. To learn, to conspire - it’s a place that is only temporary. A school for those that truly belong, until they’re let out and wreak havoc in a world they ruined in the first place._

 _It should be obvious that I only speak of_ **_true_ ** _monsters. Those that -’_

Andrew was startled out of his thoughts, not by a door opening like he’d been waiting for, but by an alarm so loud, he had to clap his hands over his ears to stop their ringing.

_Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz_

The guards were off the walls immediately and closing in on Andrew. He grabbed his moleskine and pencil, looking side to side as one guard tried to take him by the arm and lead him to the door. He wrenched his arm out of the CO’s grip, but his threat was lost behind his teeth as he was heralded quickly to the door that the CO on the other side opened and gestured for Andrew to quickly follow.

“What the fuck is happening?!”” Andrew yelled over the alarm and red flashing lights on the ceiling.

“Just come with me,” The CO yelled back over his shoulder, his pace so quick with his long legs that Andrew had to jog to keep up.

_Renee._

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Andrew pressed his shoulder behind his ear and hissed at his tattoo burning there. A tight bundle of _whatever_ gathered in his throat so high, he felt like he could choke. Swallowing it down, he shook his head as if to dispel everything as he tried to recall the way they’d initially come so he could calculate how long it would take to get back to her.

“Where is the woman I came here with?! I need to get to her!” Andrew yelled towards the CO’s back. When the CO didn’t turn around to answer, Andrew looked over his shoulder at one of the CO’s from the interview room following behind him.

_Where is she, where is she, where is she_

He went to repeat his question until they were paused in front of one of the locked sectors. The CO used his card to get them through and when the sliding doors opened, he recognized the hall and realized they were heading back to the office.

They stopped in front of the office door and Andrew was fully prepared to push his way past the guard to wrench it open himself, but it swung to reveal Renee sitting at the table with Andrew’s backpack clutched in her lap. She quickly looked over to him and when their eyes met, he felt the tightness in his throat leave.

He stepped into the room and let out a quick breath as his eyes quickly ran over her to check and see if she was okay (even though he knew she was), before he turned on the guard and opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was fucking going on again.

The alarm was quieter in here, but a red light still flashed in the corner and though the ringing was still blaring, the buzz in his ear and the fuzzy numbness of his senses was even louder.

“There’s been a breach somewhere in the prison,” the CO said, facing them in front of the door. “That could mean an inmate unaccounted for, a riot, or a number of other things.”

 _A number of other things._ There was no fucking way there were _a number of other_ fucking _things_ that alarm could fucking mean. There were specific sounds for specific emergencies. The CO just wasn’t telling them and banking on the fact that Andrew was likely clueless.

He was.

“Grab your things and hurry.” The CO ended gruffly.

Andrew pulled back his chin. “No, this is bullshit. We’ll wait here all fucking day if we have to. Take care of whatever the fuck it is, gain control of your fucking prison, and do your job. I scheduled this interview and I intend to fucking keep it. We’re supposed to fly home tomorrow,” Andrew said through his teeth, gripping harder onto his moleskin as he felt his eyes fucking blaze.

Renee didn’t say a word from beside him, but she did hand him his backpack, which he threw over his shoulder.

“This is security protocol. You can’t stay here and quite frankly, you’re preventing me from doing my job.” He glanced over his shoulder where several other officers in blue and black hurried down the hall behind him.

Andrew narrowed his eyes sharper.

“Any outside visitors have to be evacuated immediately. There’s nothing we can do and if you don’t comply, you’ll be arrested.”

Andrew turned without another word. He threw his moleskine hard onto the table in a rare act of aggression, before wrenching his backpack off and shoving his shit into it. He grabbed the strap to his bag and stormed past the officer, Renee on his heels.

The officer hurried in front of them to lead them back towards the room they were patted down to retrieve the rest of their belongings.

Their footsteps _slap slap slapped_ against the cement floor in time with the alarm picking up again in their ears. Andrew clenched his hands into fists, shrugged his shoulder to his bee that kept _buzzing,_ and listened to that stupid fucking voice repeat over and over in his head,

‘ _Oops. Oops. Oops...’_

_-_

[ Record Off ]


	9. Raven Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of the situation at the prison are finally released.  
> Andrew and Renee visit Raven Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the creators:  
> Another mini-chapter here. There is no transcript for this [ record on/off ] _yet_. It's there for a reason though. This is just so you as the reader understand whats going on in the world, like with Nathan. But otherwise, you know nothing more. So if you're interacting, this is not an Audio Notes!

Another sleepless night at the Cumberland Comfort Inn and Suites. 

Andrew didn’t know how much more of this he could take. 

He sat up in bed, back against the headboard with his feet the only part of himself under the covers. The warmth distribution was poor. He typically enjoyed being wrapped tightly in however many blankets he could find, but tonight, he felt like he was suffocating. The only thing that helped was this - sitting and watching the news zombie-eyed. He was trying to sate his need for answers, catch anything he could, whatever it was. 

_ ‘Oops _ .’ 

It wouldn’t stop ringing in his head - following the constant blare of the alarm that still reverberated back and forth from one side of his skull to the other. 

Nothing got rid of it, nothing pushed the noise away. 

_ Something happened. _

Of course, something happened. But this  _ something _ was big. 

There was no news of escaped prisoners or anything of that sort. If there were, there would have been a manhunt stretched far and wide across every platform - especially from North Branch. But there was nothing. Not a peep. 

So was the cause for unrest, for alarm, for discord, just some run-of-the-mill, normal, prison bullshit? Or was it something  _ more? _

Andrew knew the answer to that. He just didn’t know what _more_ **_was_**. 

So here  _ he _ was. With the ringing, and the  _ oops, _ and the questions with no answers. There he sat with the colors of the screen washing out his face and his dying laptop open beside him after spending two hours looking across anything and everything for an answer. 

_ Nothing _ .

Hope was losing, but it was only 4 in the morning. Bigger news would come soon, surely. People would be waking up, dust would be settling, answers would come. He knew it because he _needed_ to know it. 

Besides. The prison said they would call him today and Renee had already changed their flight to Sunday as soon as they’d gotten back to the hotel. They had time. There was a chance to reschedule. Perhaps a phone interview, anything for  _ answers _ . 

_ There would be nothing. Because there was nothing to be found. I know that.  _

_ ‘Oops’ _

He felt sick. Not even the Snickers on his bedside seemed appetizing. 

_ ‘Oops’... _

_ Oops, oops, oops - _

What did that even fucking mean? 

Obviously that  _ ‘oops’ _ was supposed to be a warning, a hint, something foreboding to dig itself into Andrew’s mind and set his teeth on edge (it did that pretty fucking nicely). But was there more to it? Why did Riko say it if there wasn’t? He wasn’t fucking smart enough to guess a catastrophic event like whatever  _ this _ was. He wasn’t smart enough to stage whatever happened - Riko was nothing more than a talking piece. So, was he just a messenger? Someone, to let Andrew know that he was fighting a losing battle, playing a dangerous game?

Andrew’s brows twitched as that thought dug itself into his mind. 

If Riko were a messenger, a talking piece, a pretty face to display to the masses - then what did the  _ Moriyama's _ have to do with  _ this _ ? If whatever  _ this _ was had something to do with  _ another _ thing they’d already invested interest in, then what did they do and  _ why _ were they so stuck on Andrew digging in?

He dragged his eyes from the tv screen to his laptop. The battery power in the upper right-hand corner was colored red. His charger had fallen off the bed an hour ago and Andrew didn’t think he had the energy to pick it up. 

_ 10% left _ .

Enough to just see what comes up...

The laptop came to full brightness as Andrew pulled it onto his lap. The light made his eyes slightly sting, but he blinked away the pain as he cracked his pinky once, then tried researching the Moriyama's for the second time that night - this time with a different approach.

_ What was their stake? _

_ Why make a documentary on Nathan? _

_ Why would they  _ **_possibly_ ** _ try to stop me from interviewing him? _

He sucked on his teeth for a second and answered some of those questions with another.

_ The Moriyama's got me fired. They were at the Globe, in the office and speaking to the Editor in Chief. Why then, when they left, was I all of a sudden let go? Integrity ruined? Reputation tarnished? _

_ Was it because they didn’t want EAP to catch any backlash for the documentary? _

_ Or was it because they didn’t want anyone knowing the  _ **_real_ ** _ truth - whatever that was? _

_ What don’t they want people knowing? _

There was something happening. All the rage Andrew had felt at being interrupted at the prison, came back to fuel him now. He could feel it start in his chest and spread to the rest of his body - uncomfortable energy simmering beneath his skin as his fingers flew across the keyboard and hit enter. 

While it loaded with the shitty hotel internet, he flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, before looking back down at his laptop. That’s when an old headline caught his eye.

_ ‘Moriyama Family Ensures Students At Raven Academy Are On the Fast Track to Success’ _

Andrew furrowed his brows at the computer. 

_ Raven Academy? _

Since when were the Moriyama's involved in another school beyond Edgar Allan’s Exy team?

He clicked the article open and read. 

_ ‘The Pre-K-12th grade boarding school, a vision of the late Kengo Moriyama and funded by the Moriyama family, boasts a 100% college enrollment rate from its graduates. Kengo claimed this is due to the excellent quality of teachers and the focus on team sports and personal success.’ _

His mind was just beginning to put this together when he heard the words ‘North Branch Correctional Institution’ come from the TV. He snapped his head up and scrambled to raise the volume. The clock in the corner of the screen read 4:46AM, while  **_BREAKING_ ** scrolled across the bottom, and regular programming came to a halt. 

A male anchor appeared in the center of the screen, microphone in hand and North Branch acting as a dark backdrop in the pre-dawn light.

_ ‘Breaking News. WTOP has just received word that yesterday morning, a riot broke out at Cumberland’s North Branch Correctional Institution. Three guards and eight inmates were injured. According to our sources, three of those eight inmates are in critical condition and it’s being reported that the prison’s most notorious killer, Nathan Wesninski - the Butcher of Baltimore, was killed during the riot. _

_ ‘It is unclear -’ _

Andrew felt the remote slip from his numb fingers. The reporter kept talking, but Andrew couldn’t hear him. There was an ocean in his ears. Bees, and waves, and wind, and the rushing pound of his pulse that beat over and over and over again. The bees were swarming and the waves threatened to drown him as he stared blankly at the anchors moving lips, while Nathan’s mugshot appeared in the corner of the screen and scenes of The Butcher documentary briefly played. 

His hands were shaking and once they couldn’t possibly shake more, it moved up his arms, to his shoulders, all the way to his chest where the all-consuming rage he’d felt at being denied his interview, only grew and festered. 

_ They did it again. _

They tried to stop him again. The Moriyamas knew he was getting close to whatever the fuck  _ close _ was. It was so fucking  _ obvious  _ now. They killed him. They killed him because -

Andrew stood and slapped the lid of his laptop down. He paced in his boxers, scrubbed his face with his hands, and rubbed the bee behind his ear to try and quiet her down. 

He wished King was here. 

_ Research, figure it out. You always figure it out. Calm down, keep your head. You’re smart. You’re smart as shit and you’re going to do this. _

He pulled off his glasses, tossed them onto the bed, and pressed his fingers into his eyes. 

_ Why a school? Why did the Moriyama's have a school? Di- _

He stopped pacing. 

Realization hit him hard and he lunged back at the bed, opening his laptop quickly and went back to the initial Google page. His eyes narrowed, looking for the address of Raven Academy and saw exactly what he expected to see. 

_ Raven Academy, K-12 Preparatory Boarding School. Towson, Baltimore County, Maryland. _

**_Baltimore, Maryland_ **

**_Baltimore_ **

Nathan Wensinski’s stomping grounds 

_ The Butcher of  _ **_Baltimore_ ** _. _

_ ‘Over the next six years, the FBI had convicted Wesninski of over twenty murders and another fifty  _ **_assisted_ ** _ -’ _

The Moriyama's just so happened to have a school located in Baltimore County; not 10 minutes away from Baltimore city. Riko plays for Baltimore’s Exy team. 

_‘Nathan Wesninski is only a man. Still in the system,_ **still** **breathing** _, a_ ** _hitman_** _, a serial murderer-’_

**_Hitman_ **

Andrew closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

It seemed, in his mind, like all of this was a stretch. But it wasn’t, was it? Because the Moriyama's funded a multi-million dollar documentary based around  **_The Butcher of Baltimore_ ** . They fired Andrew when he started this investigation, had Riko appear on a TV show to try and ward him away and  _ butchered _ the very  _ hitman _ Andrew was to meet. Now, Andrew finds out they have investments in the city... Investments that -

He was hit again. Something sharp stuck into his head and he was left scrambling around the sheets for his phone. When he found it, he had to clench and unclench his jaw as he aggressively tapped the screen and found Kevin’s name to hit the call button.

When he didn’t answer, he called again. 

Then again. 

Then finally, 

_ “Andrew? Why the fuck are you calling me at 5AM?” _ Kevin’s voice was sleep rough. Andrew was glad to be his morning wake up service. 

“Where did you go to school? Before Edgar Allen. Where did you go?” Andrew couldn’t unclench his teeth enough to speak, so everything came out as a hiss. At least he wasn’t yelling - waking up everyone else in the hotel. 

He wanted to. 

_ “Huh?”  _ Kevin mumbled. Then, “ _ What? Why the fuck does that matter?” _ and Andrew could tell.

Kevin was trying very hard to stay casual. 

“Just fucking tell me, Kevin. Or I promise you, I’ll fly back to South Carolina and  _ make _ you tell me.” Andrew squeezed the phone and pushed it into his ear. The sharp backs of his piercings dug into his skin and he relished, momentarily, in the pain.

Through the receiver, Kevin sighed  _ “It was-” _ Andrew could practically hear him trying to find a way around. When he couldn’t, he let out,  _ “Raven Academy, okay? I went to Raven Academy with Riko when my mother died and I was sent to Tetsuji.” _

**_Raven Academy._ **

**_Baltimore._ **

Andrew sat on the edge of the bed and dug his fingers into his thigh.

“There. Was that so hard?” Andrew asked, with all the sweetness of a viper. He could taste its venom on his tongue. “Now, just one other question for you.”

**_The Butcher of Baltimore._ **

_ “What, Andrew? I’m tired and I have to be at work in three hours.” _

“Did Nathaniel Wesninski also go to Raven Academy?” Andrew knew the answer to this too. He could feel it. He dug his fingers harder into his thigh and missed the cool press of knives he’d once kept hidden in his armbands. “He would’ve been in Kindergarten, Kevin. He would’ve been younger. Did he go to Raven Academy with you?” Andrew held his breath and waited for Kevin to answer. 

He didn’t. The line was silent and Andrew wished, for just a moment (longer), that he had Kevin here so he could choke the information out of him. 

“Kevin-”

_ “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about that. I’m going back to bed.” _

_ And I’m going to Baltimore. _

Andrew hung up. 

-

Two and a half hours later, Andrew and Renee were parked in front of Raven Academy, Preparatory Boarding school.

As soon as Andrew hung up on Kevin, he was scrambling. Throwing on clothes, tossing shit into his bag. He wanted to get out of the hotel as fast as possible. His mind was racing and he hadn’t even properly laced up his boots before he was banging on Renee’s door and barged in the moment she opened it. 

“Nathan is dead. We’re going to Baltimore. Get your shit and let’s go.”  

He filled her in on the way there and she didn’t question him on his impulse or intent. She just sat in the passenger's seat, nodding her head with eyes narrowed and calculating. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Baltimore that she finally asked, “What do you need me to do?”

What  _ did _ he need her to do?

Listen? Follow along? Pretend, spin a story, paint a pretty picture of him to the administration?

Andrew just tapped the steering wheel and ran his eyes over the neatly stacked bricks of the Academy. 

“Okay,” Renee said, unbuckling her seatbelt and checking her makeup she’d applied during their trip in the mirror. The high collar of her shirt was modest in the growing summer heat, but she just rolled up her sleeves, then turned towards him. “One more time.”

It wasn’t going to work. He knew that and he knew she did too. Nonetheless, he nodded and unbuckled himself as well with a click. 

“You’re an eccentric billionaire author and I’m your sister in law. You’re paying for your nephew to attend the school, so we want a tour of the grounds.” She raised her brows at him. “You do not talk and keep the scowling to a minimum. If  _ that _ fails, we promise to donate enough money for a new library. Ready?”

“No.” He was running on no sleep for... however fucking long it’s been already. His head was pounding, his anxiety was at an all-time high, and the adrenaline pulsing through his veins was setting his teeth on edge in the way it did whenever he was getting close to something big.

_ This is it. _

Nonetheless, he opened the car door and stepped out into the warm, damp morning air. Andrew grabbed his bag from the backseat and the two of them made their way to the large set of double doors. He patted his pocket to make sure his recorder was stashed away and when they climbed the stairs, he reached in and turned it on. 

[ Record On ]

What greeted them was a camera under a buzzer. Andrew lifted his hand to press it, but Renee beat him to it. Instead, he watched the camera swivel in their direction and listened as a voice came through the intercom. 

_ ‘C-can I help you?’ _

“Hello!” Renee said brightly. “We’re here for a tour of the grounds. My son will be attending soon.”

Silence from the other end. Renee pressed the buzzer again. 

“Hello?”

_ ‘Mr. Minyard is not permitted on school property. Please leave the grounds.’ _

Renee and Andrew looked at each other and Renee had the decency to press her lips together as he rolled his eyes. The part of Andrew that was overly tired, needed a cigarette, and a cup of good coffee, let out a choked laugh. 

_ Give me a fucking break. _

“Guess you made an impression on all things Moriyama related,” Renee said. “Something tells me the staff watched the Kathy Ferdinand show.”

“Something tells me you’re right, and that we should’ve had the foresight to know that.” He narrowed his eyes up at the camera, then shook his head and turned away. “I’m getting into this school,” he mumbled. “We’ll regroup and figure it out, but I’m getting into this fucking school.”

They retreated back down the pretentious stone steps and headed towards the rental. However, halfway to the car, Andrew felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He rolled his neck to try and make it go away, but he knew what it meant. 

_ Someone’s watching _ . 

A man stood off to the side, tall and unhidden by the car that separated himself from their rental. He had dark hair and gray eyes that seemed nervous, but intent on Andrew and Renee. He was obviously a teacher of some sort, with a stack of papers in his hand, a strange look on his face, and a dark mark beneath his left eye. 

Andrew wasn’t impressed. He leveled him with his best  _ ‘get the fuck out of my way’ _ stare when the man spoke. 

“Minyard? Andrew Minyard?” He had a slight accent that Andrew was too distracted to place. His mind was ringing alarm, recognition, reminder - his eidetic memory was failing him for perhaps the first time in his life.

Or maybe, he just didn’t care.  

“Name’s Aaron. You must have me confused.” Andrew moved to get into the car and shoved his hand in his pocket to turn the recorder off. 

“No, no. Wait.” The main hurried over and Andrew turned, letting go of the device to run a hand over his left armband where he knew he had no knives waiting.

“I saw the show. With Riko. I...I think what you’re doing is right.”

Andrew froze. He didn’t straighten, turn around, look the man up and down, and put on a fake smile because of the  _ compliment _ this guy gave him.  “Andrew Minyard.” He  _ didn’t _ tell him his name either as he took in the  **3** tattooed on his cheek. 

_ Number 3. One of Riko’s. Jea- _

“Jean Moreau.” The man confirmed, eyes quickly scanning the parking lot, before moving his eyes back to Andrew. The corner of his lips lifted slightly, but it wasn’t flirtatious - it seemed, in a way... relieved?

“Well, Jean,” Andrew started. “I’m glad you appreciate the work myself and my friend Renee here are doing.” He gestured to Renee and she gave Jean a small smile and wave. Jean blushed and Andrew tried hard not to roll his eyes again. 

_ Play the part. _

Inhaling a deep breath, Andrew furrowed his brows and said, “Hey, I wonder,” putting his pointer finger to his chin and looking to the sky. “Is there any way you could give us a tour? We’re really just curious about the school, and would love to see the campus.” He looked back to Jean who was shifting nervously. 

“Ah...I probably shouldn’t-”

“Probably not,” Andrew agreed. “But you strike me as a rebel, Jean. Someone who likes to stick it to the man every once in a while. I’m sure they’re always trying to push you down in this place. Keep you in a box, nice and neat.”

Jean straightened his hunched posture at that and gave Andrew a level look before nodding. 

“Follow me. We’ll take the side staff entrance so the admin in the front office won't see you.”

Renee gave him a bright smile. “Thank you so much. You’ve saved the day!”

Jean smiled back and gripped his papers just a little tighter. Andrew gave Renee a  _ look _ , but she just shrugged.

The campus was much bigger than the pictures online made it out to be. Sprawling fields still wet with dew and freshly cut, landscaped islands of colorful spring flowers, Victorian lamp posts with the school's sigil waving proudly in the wind, it all honestly made Andrew sick. The Academy itself was a feat all on its own. This side entrance took them five minutes to get through, walking past several gardens and a high fucking spire on the west side of the building. The door itself was clearly mimicked off of something architecturally grand, but made of metal and cool to the touch when Jean keyed their access and let them in first. 

If the outside was physically imposing, inside was just flat out, fucking ridiculous. Andrew couldn’t imagine in even his dizziest days, being a child and walking through here. Sure, some part of his attention-starved mind may have imagined this as a sort of castle, but it was intimidating nonetheless. 

The floors were polished marble and the ceilings were high. Everything was painted in whites, blues, blacks, and reds. There was not a paper on the floor, not a trashcan in sight. He’d imagined the administrators around here probably have these children on a tight fucking leash, because what school doesn’t have a healthy amount of disorder?

It was only reflected as Jean led them to a small office with his name on the door. The office itself was tiny, but it was stripped clean of anything that seemed  _ extra _ . There were a few pictures on the walls, a Raven’s Jersey with the number 3 on the back, but otherwise clear and almost militaristic. 

Jean set his papers down on his desk, then asked, “Where would you like to start?”

“Class pictures?” Andrew asked, his eyes focused on a photo on the wall of the entire Raven’s team. If he squinted his eyes, he could make out Kevin standing tall beside Riko. He tore his eyes away and raised a brow. “Are there any around here? Displayed somewhere?”

Jean paused for a moment, but rather than question why Andrew would want class pictures instead of their agreed upon tour, he just nodded and walked past them. Renee closed the office door behind them as Andrew stared at the back of Jean's head to wherever the pictures must have been. He knew if he started looking around, reading signs and wondering where the wing for kindergarteners was, his mind would wander to places they didn’t want to go. 

Like the fact that this was a boarding school and Kindergarteners would spend their entire week in this place -  _ babies _ \- before they were shipped back to their parents for the weekend. Andrew had grown up in over a dozen homes with over a dozen different traumatic situations, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think there weren’t levels of abuse and neglect going on here, too. 

They eventually ended up in a wide hallway with doors leading outside and wide windows spreading light everywhere. For a place dubbed Raven Academy and looking like something out of medieval fantasy, the windows were overly large and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a stained glass decorated hall of them. Jean turned them away from the doors to face a wall full of elegantly framed class photos and the school motto painted in silver above them all. 

_ Pro Victoria Ut Non Excusat _

_ ‘Make No Excuses for Success’ _

Ugh. 

Andrew felt his upper lip twitch to scowl, but he ignored the temptation as he stepped closer and began to hunt. 

“So,” he said offhandedly to Jean, “how long have you been teaching here?” With a glance over his shoulder, he saw Jean watching him with his lips pressed together and eyes... something. It was the look of a man deciding whether or not to continue complying or to shut up as he’d probably been told. 

After a seconds delay, Andrew looked back to the photos and Jean answered. “About nine years. I’m a former student though, so I’ve been here for a long time.”

A few things happened then. Andrew was both surprised and not. He could tell by the tattoo that Jean was a former teammate of Kevin and Riko - the  **3** to their  **1** and  **2** , but that didn’t mean he went to school  _ here _ . 

He stopped and turned to face Jean. “A former student? Were you here in ‘99?”

Jean shook his head. “I came in my sophomore year of high school. I played Exy for Edgar Allen for a while, but couldn’t continue due to injury. The Moriyama's put me here instead.”

Andrew raised a brow at him. “The Moriyama's  _ put _ you here?”

Jean looked around nervously, “I mean, that is...they gave me a job here. When I couldn’t play anymore. It was very kind of them, to make sure I was taken care of. So now I teach French and coach the exy team.”

Andrew stared at him just long enough to make him even more uncomfortable. “Uh-huh.” That didn’t sound suspicious as fuck  _ at all. _

Jean pressed his lips together and lifted his eyes to the wall to avoid more of Andrew’s scrutiny. Andrew dragged his eyes slowly back to the last picture he was looking at, until Renee said his name quietly and in a tone that Andrew caught.

“Andrew…” 

_ She found it _ . 

Renee lifted a slender hand and pointed to a picture of a Kindergarten class. The year was written in silver on a plaque that one of the children was holding. 1999 shone in the camera flash, but Andrew all but glanced at it before he followed the line of Renee’s finger. 

And there, right in the front because he was smaller than the other kids, was Nathaniel Wesninski. 

_ I knew it. _

He was right there. So small, with his wide blue eyes and auburn hair that shone red underneath the bright sun above. He was bundled in the same uniform that the rest of the kids were, but it looked no less restrictive than the suit he’d worn in the family photo. Andrew fought back the temptation to touch the glass of the frame, and instead let himself feel the anger that had been simmering inside since this morning's news. 

He directed that feeling towards one person. 

“Kevin is such a fucking liar,” he muttered, before pulling out his phone and snapping a picture. The verbal lashing he was going to give Kevin when he saw him next would be one for the books.

“Kevin?” Jean asked from behind him. “Kevin Day, correct? You are friendly with him?”

Andrew lifted his eyes from his phone, “ _ Friendly _ is such a strong word. Especially at the moment.”

Renee, ever calm and level headed, interrupted. “Oh, did you know him? You would’ve played exy together at Edgar Allan wouldn’t you?” Jean nodded and Andrew shoved his phone in the pocket opposite to the recorder. 

_ Keep looking. 2000. Perhaps Nathaniel briefly made it to first grade. _

Jean and Renee spoke quietly behind him for a while, and he ignored them as he kept looking. 

There was nothing. Andrew looked through over every single face in the year ‘00 photo and there was no sign of icy blue eyes and fiery red hair. At least now he knew for sure that he and Mary must have run before first grade. 

That didn’t mean there weren’t more places to look, however. 

“Yearbooks,” Andrew said, interrupting the conversation going on behind him. “Does the school keep old yearbooks?”

“Yes,” Jean said, a bit hesitant. “In the library.”

Before Andrew could open his mouth and demand to be shown, Renee cut in.

“Would you mind showing us? We’d be so grateful.” She gave Jean a sweet smile and he nodded quickly.

“Yeah... of course. It should be empty at the moment. Most students don’t bother studying in there on the weekends.” Jean looked from side to side quickly, then nodded his chin down the hall they’d just come from. “This way.”

Renee and Andrew followed behind him towards the library. It was down another series of wide halls and grand ceilings. There was a mural off to the side that looked polished over and fresh, as if it had just been painted or touched up recently. There was an imposing emblem of a raven in the center, with its wings stretched on either side, and the Latin motto arching above. The gloss polish over top was so reflective, Andrew could see himself walk by. 

The library was just as ridiculous as the rest of this place. Perhaps, in another life, another place, a different situation, Andrew would’ve been able to see it’s beauty. The carved banisters and decorative frescos - floor to ceiling shelves of books upon books. He wondered if Nathaniel had ever been in here, even how young he was. Did he like to read? Did he like to escape to worlds outside of his own, like Andrew had? Did?

The place seemed never ending with all the stacks. Stretching on, it had the sense of illusion and infinity. When Andrew breathed in deep, he could smell aged pages and unbroken spines. Shaking his head, he focused on Jean and could feel Renee staring at him. He ignored her as Jean turned around and motioned towards a section to the left marked  _ Academy Archives.  _

“Should be right over here.” Jean held out a hand and waited for Andrew and Renee to step in front of him, before following behind. 

Andrew ignored him too as he walked down the stack and looked over the plaques attached to each shelf to guide him. When he came upon what seemed like the yearbooks, he let his eyes pass over each roman fucking numeral year, until he found  **_MCMXCIX_ ** . 

1999.

_ Pretentious fucks. _

The book was thicker than it had any right to be for a private school. The binding looked as though it had only been opened once or twice, but the pages were still slightly yellowed. It had been 20 years after all, but the paper was laminated, so it looked as if it were designed to be old. 

_ Even more pretentious. Assholes.  _

Andrew rolled his eyes and walked out of the stacks to place the book on one of the old oak tables. When he opened the front cover it creaked with not age, but disuse. He slowly flicked through the faux aged pages until he came to the individual kindergarten pictures. Swallowing hard, he turned each page until he came to  **_‘W’_ ** and there he was. 

So small, Andrew could relate - He’d been the smallest kid in class his entire life. But even Nathaniel’s smile was small, tiny, and put on. So young and he knew what sort of facade to uphold. Only the corners lifted, it didn’t reach his startling blue eyes. 

Andrew tried not to linger, to feel something in his chest break knowing what sort of life the child in the picture had lived, and what he had likely endured years after. 

_ ‘Scars...so many scars. They looked like they were from knives...like he had been cut over and over.’  _

He scratched at a burning itch below his collar and grimaced. His teeth bit at his lip ring as he inhaled deeply through his nose and took out his phone again. Andrew snapped a picture of the individual kindergarten photo, then kept flipping. He was in the Team Sports section of the book when he saw it. 

There he was again. Teeny tiny Nathaniel, right in front of the Little League Exy team picture, holding a small racquet and looking more genuinely happy than he had in any other photo Andrew had seen of him. Andrew wanted to linger, but he knew he’d be staring all day. Luckily, Renee came over his shoulder and hummed quietly. He hummed back, but it was cut off when they both saw  _ it _ at the same time.

“Oh my god...” he heard her whisper. Renee had just taken her Lord’s name in vain and Andrew did not blame her. 

Because there behind Nathaniel, standing side by side again - was Riko and Kevin wearing matching cocky grins and racquets in opposite hands thrown over their shoulders. Andrew ground his teeth together and quickly checked the list of names off to the side to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. 

But no. 

It was them.

**Riko Moriyama #1**

**Kevin Day #2**

**Nathaniel Wesninski #3**

He was  _ five _ and he was number fucking three? 

He glanced at Jean out of the corner of his eye, then shook his head and hissed under his breath, “Lying son of a bitch.” 

No. No not  _ only _ was he five and number fucking three - Kevin hadn’t said  _ shit _ about knowing anything to do with Nathaniel. How long had he been researching this case? How many times had he brought it up and not a fucking  _ word _ .

Oh ho. He was caught now. There was no more lying, no more evading. He couldn’t even try - couldn’t say he didn’t know because Nathaniel was younger. 

Hah.

_ Hah. _

“What?” Jean emerged beside him, leaning over Andrew’s other shoulder to look. “Oh... mon dieu...”

“Did you know?” Andrew asked him, not turning to look again. “That Nathaniel Wesninski went to school here?”

“No!” Andrew turned around then to gauge his reaction. “No, I swear - this is crazy, I had no idea.” He shook his head and Andrew believed him. “As I said, I didn’t come until much later. I knew Kevin and Riko as we all played exy together, but that’s it...” He leaned forward to stare at the picture again, muttering to himself in french. 

Andrew reached for his phone to take another picture. “Jean, do you mind looking to make sure none of the staff is out there? I don’t want to be spotted on the way out.”

Jean nodded dazedly and as soon as he was far enough away, Andrew stood and shoved the yearbook into his bag.

“Andrew,” Renee whispered. “You can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” he hissed through his teeth. Zipping up the bag, he threw it over his shoulder and looked to Renee’s face, “I want to be able to shove this down Kevin’s throat when I see him.”    
  
A second later, Jean came back and gestured toward them. 

“All is clear,” he said, then looked at the empty spot on the table with his brow furrowed. “Where is the book?”

“I put it back.” Andrew said. “I snapped some pictures with my phone.” Jean watched him closely for a minute. His eye gave a minute twitch as if he were weighing whether or not to believe him. In the end, Jean must have either decided he was telling the truth or that he just didn’t care, because he turned and lead them out of the library, then back to the side staff entrance. 

Once they got there, stupid metal door stretching high above, Renee stuck out her hand to shake Jean’s as she said, “Thank you so much for your help.” 

Jean gave her a small smile and a nod, before holding his hand out to Andrew. 

Naturally, Andrew ignored it and forewent any smile he would’ve given at the beginning of this exchange. He had what he needed, he didn’t need to be nice anymore. 

“You’re welcome. I really do think what you’re doing is important,” he focused on Andrew. When he spoke next, it was a bit softer, “I hope you find them.” 

Andrew nodded and turned to walk to the car.

“Andrew-” Jean called. “Tell Kevin I said hello, will you? He was...a good friend in school.” Andrew looked back to see Jean slouching slightly again, hands in his pockets.

_ ‘If Kevin survives, _ ’ Andrew wanted to say in response but kept his back turned as he unlocked the car. 

Renee answered for him anyway with a, “We will.” 

Once they made it inside the rental, Andrew was already shaking his head and Renee was already giving him that  _ look _ . With a sigh, Andrew shut off the recorder and resigned, “Go ahead.”

[ Record Off ]

“I didn’t like taking advantage of him. He was nice and you shouldn’t have stolen the yearbook. What if he gets in trouble? It’ll be our fault.”

Andrew waited a few seconds after she was quiet. 

“Done now?” he asked. She nodded. “We didn’t take advantage of him. He wanted to help. It’s not your fault he was smitten with you. Don’t ever let a man make you feel bad because  _ he _ felt some type of way.”

Renee grinned a little and nodded towards Andrew’s bag. “I still don’t think you should’ve stolen the book.”

“Yes, well. I’m a heathen.” He pulled out his phone as he spoke and opened the picture he had taken of the exy team. He sent it to Kevin.

_ ‘Wish you were here.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Nathaniel's Kindergarten photo [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185396711760/posting-this-here-with-news-and-an-update-about).
> 
> You can keep up with RRP on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading and well see you again this Sunday!!


	10. Episode 4: Europe, Kathy, Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  I'm very tired.   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the Creators!:  
> Hello all, we hope you all enjoyed our change up in posting the last few weeks as we tried to bring you content as it was happening in the world. We have absolutely loved all the support and involvement the community has brought forth and we hope you do too. We're really excited about this chapter, it's been a while since we've seen Neil, had the chance to hear from Andrew about EVERYTHING that has been happening. As you know, some pretty juicy stuff is going down and we feel like we are halfway, a tipping point one might say, of the story. So hold on, if you thought it's been a roller coaster up until now, it's really only just beginning. That being said, TW for panic attacks, minor mentions of torture, but nothing beyond canon.
> 
> You can follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)! We usually post updates on there, so you'll know if something is late or not!  
> ALSO the transcript will be posted soon! This is a long one, so bare with us!  
> ***the timeline when this is posted may seem off between the podcast and Neil. Neil is about a week late in relation to the podcast. But, we wanted them to end on the same note. So, we hope it makes sense!

_[ Piano. Sirens wailing ]_

_//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//_

_//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//_

_[ Run Little Rabbit Run, Run ]_

_//He hid behind... He thought he could hide behind a door. It was a nice door - expensive door.//_

_//The shocking part about a lot of these cases is how various circumstances and situations can result in somebody just completely vanishing. In a second they’re gone...with no trace of what happened to them.//_

_[ Orchestral music ]_

_//If you don’t want it found, you can take it somewhere. You could bury it. Put it in the trunk of a car and have it crushed.//_

_//At this point, Baltimore Police are fearing the worst.//_

_//We’re not talking about Runaways, we’re talking about situations where we know the people are in significant risk of harm.//_

_//Detectives are now working with authorities in Parkland* and no where there have they seen this pair.//_

_You’re listening to Red Rabbits. I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_-_

Neil sat in the middle of the bed with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes stared into the depths of his closet - his phone and earbuds lie next to him on the bed, and pressed against his opposite thigh, Sir curled flush against him.

He wished he could wind himself that tight.

_-_

_They say honesty is the best policy._

_So here it goes._

_The past three weeks have honestly been a clusterfuck._

_Most of it feels like a waste of time. A waste of your time, a waste of my time, a waste of time on the invisible clock that seems to be ticking down to nothing._

_I’m sure you’re all saying, ‘ **But Andrew! You’ve gotten so much done! So much happened in the time you’ve been gone! You went to Europe, you were on TV, Nathan Wesninski died!’** _

_And where has any of that gotten me? What can I use? What has any of it done to push this case forward, propel us closer to having answers?_

_Honesty is the best policy._

_Here’s **my** honesty. _

_I feel like I’m at a standstill. Because maybe I’m being hard on myself. Maybe there has been progress, maybe I’m just not seeing it because everything feels so wrong right now._

_There are things that I’ve learned in these past few weeks that I cannot share. There are things that are not **mine** to expose. I cannot, in good faith, speak of them without feeling dirty, like I’m overstepping a line that has no right being crossed - not by me, not by you, not by anyone but those they involve. _

_Additionally, though the things I’ve learned are big, they may jeopardize the people around me. Now that I’ve said that aloud, I hope you understand why I am where I am. Why in moving forward with today's episode, there are going to be missing pieces. You will, most likely, be confused. And much of this is going to be a very brief recap because truly, I cannot be fucking bothered._

_I feel like I’m a lawyer, presenting evidence in front of a jury - evidence that must be approved by an outside source while leaving out crucial pieces because they are not admissible._

_This is not me hiding information or lying, this is me trying my best to protect those involved. So, I’m going to try to stay as clear and concise as possible. With all that being said, understand that I am also thoroughly done with this episode and I just want to move on._

_So strap the fuck in, I guess._

_We’re going back to Europe._

_-_

Her warmth seeped through his shorts and into his hip to spread throughout the rest of his cold, cold body. She gently purred into the silence and it grounded him just enough to keep him from floating away.

Neil had just finished listening to the Audio Notes Minyard had collected in Europe. It was a short release, shorter than the rest had been - but his drop was long and winding as he recalled the statements from Anais and Karl over and over in his head. His mind was conflicted about how to feel, how he was _supposed_ to feel. Because although that life seemed so far away, he _remembered -_

_-_

_[ interlude ]_

_-_

_One could say Europe was productive._

_The more I think about that, the less I believe it._

_But it’s still important. It’s important because, in the line of events, it gives us a further understanding of what was happening not only inside Mary’s mind but Nathaniel’s as well. We learned more of the child Nathaniel was and what horrors he may have endured - more of what a mother Mary is/was and a small piece of what she is/was up against._

_We learned that at some point, Nathaniel may have had a bit of reprieve._

_If you’ve listened to the Audio Notes, then you will understand. On our trip, we met with two people who claimed to have met Nathaniel at some point between the years 2002-2004 ._

_One was from Strasbourg, France._

_Anais is a young woman, mid to late 20s. You can listen to the audio notes to hear the full interview, but she described how when she was a child attending the annual music festival, Fete de la Musique, she ran into a young boy who resembled Nathaniel._

_-_

_**ANDREW:** _

_So tell us, in your own words, about the day you saw Nathaniel._

_**ANAIS:** _

_[ deep breath ]_

_Well, I was 11 years old and I was with my family at le Fête de la Musique-”_

_**ANDREW:** _

_Tell us about that_

_**ANAIS:** _

_It is held here in Strasbourg, every June. It is a large music festival where performers line the streets to play their music. It is a family event. Many people and children running around, enjoying the day._

_**ANDREW:** _

_Okay._

_[ pause ]_

_So, what happened when you were 11? What year would this have been?_

_**ANAIS:** _

  1. _I was running around with my older brother and some of his friends. They were playing a game of tag and chasing each other through the crowd of adults. I was running too, but I was just the little sister. No one noticed me very much._



_[ pause. Glass tings ]_

_I was swerving around someone when I ran straight into a boy._

_**ANDREW:** _

_A boy._

_[ pause ]_

_What did the boy look like?_

_**ANAIS:** _

_[ glass tings ]_

_He was small. Maybe eight or nine. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes. I know the coloring is wrong. But, I know it was Nathaniel. And... I know I said in the email that his name was Steffan, but it was him._

_-_

He remembered Anais because it was one of the few times in what seemed like a very long life, that he could recall feeling carefree enough as a child to run and laugh. He remembered how nice she was, he remembered how her blond hair danced in the wind as she ran and how her crystal blue eyes shone with mischief. It was the light in those eyes that Steffan had found impossible to resist when she’d asked him to help her catch her brother.

He remembered running and playing and bumping into adults who would shake their fists or laugh indulgently.

He remembered laughing, too.

_-_

_I believe her._

_We know from Florida, that Mary may have purchased fake ids, passports, money, and whatever else is sold out of that backend counterfeit shop in Key West. We also learned from a shop owner that Mary was looking for hair dye, leading us to believe she was trying to hide both her and Nathaniel’s natural appearances. Colored contacts weren’t and aren’t recommended for children, especially back in the early 2000s, but I would imagine when you are that desperate, you’d bypass just about anything you can to keep yourself and those you love hidden._

_**ANDREW:** _

_[ soft crack ]_

_How do you know? How can you be so sure if the coloring is different from what he is naturally?_

_**ANAIS:** _

_[ pause ]_

_It was still his face. He still had the freckles, the dark skin. He still had those lips that made him look as if he were pouting, even when he wasn’t. When I saw the family portrait and the photo from Florida on your website, I knew it was him._

_-_

_From our knowledge of the current timeline, paired with our second interview in Europe, leads me to believe she was right. Mary likely tried to alter the appearance of Nathaniel as much as one can with a child. Darken his hair, his eyes, hope he passes as someone different, someone else._

_Then comes the matter of language. Anais claimed that she had played with Nathaniel. She also claimed he spoke French._

_-_

_**ANDREW:** _

_Tell me, what was it about him that made him so memorable? That all these years later, you would recognize him?_

_**ANAIS:** _

_Well, when I ran into him, he grabbed my arms like he was trying to steady me. He was very nice._

_[ tapping ]_

_Spoke french very well, even though I could tell he was a foreigner._

_-_

_Blending in, doing what you can to seem as though you belong - stay anonymous, **anything** . _

_-_

He remembered his mother yanking his arm and pulling him away - remembered how she held onto him after that, for days and days _and days_ on end. She didn’t let go and by the time she relaxed enough to, he had bruises in the shape of her fingers purpling the skin of his arm that lasted for a very long time.

 _Breathe Nathaniel_.

He tried - he really did.

But those bruises were nothing compared to what happened when Karl saw his scars. Neil closed his eyes and tried to feel the air move in and out of his lungs - tried not to choke as something caught in his throat. He bowed his head and closed his eyes tight as he ran one hand through his hair over and over, while the other dug deeper into Sir’s fur.

_Go for a run. Run, move, go go go - don’t stop. Don’t look back -_

_Never look back_.

_-_

_Which leads us to our second interview._

_On one of the last legs of our trip, we met with a man named Karl in Hanover, Germany at the Harrenhousen Gardens. What he told us was not crucial in the sense that it propels us further in our case or gives us a clear idea of how they were to allegedly end up in Scotland next. It does, however, give us an idea in **how** they stayed and **when** they decided it was the time to go. _

_**KARL:** _

_[ amplified voice ]_

_I was ten years old and I think he was as well. It was 2004. He went by the name Ben, but I am sure it was him._

_**RENEE:** _

_How can you be so sure?_

_**KARL:** _

_The pictures of when he was a child look just like him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, but it was him. I know it. I recognized his mother too, from when she would drop him off and pick him up. We went to a small community school together in Wunstorf, but he was not there very long._

_-_

_This is important. It’s important because it tells us that Mary committed. Enrolling your small child that you are smuggling cross-continentally into a private school is a commitment to a guise that could only be held for so long, as Karl said._

_-_

_**ANDREW:** _

_How long is not very long?_

_**KARL:** _

_Three months, maybe?_

_-_

_We don’t know what she did in the time that Nathaniel was in school, but we do know what **he** did. _

_-_

He forced a breath in and out before he lifted his head and peeled open his eyes. The bedroom had transformed, turned into a dirt track and crisp morning air - the smell of cut grass and the metallic tinge of sweat after a hard _run_. In his mind's eye, he saw the landscape slide by as he turned his head to see Karl standing only a few meters away, staring at his torso as he wiped the sweat from his brow using the bottom of his shirt. Something ugly and heavy stirred in his stomach and the Neil that was here, right now, felt as though he might be sick for so many reasons.

He hated his scars. He hated how they puckered and transformed his skin, his own landscape, his entire being. He hated how they ached, stiffened, drew his body tight in a constant reminder of _who_ and _what_ had put them there. He hated how they brought forth images of his father, knives, life on the run, and pain... So much pain for such a small body.

Neil felt himself flinch and tried to grasp the loud purr from Sir’s body, the way she sent vibrations up his wrist, arm, shoulder, to his chest.

Sometimes, when his father was on a roll and Neil could tell he was losing himself to the bloodlust, Neil would lose himself too.

_Stop screaming. Stop crying. Close your eyes and float away._

_It can’t touch you here, Abram. You’re okay. It’s almost over._

But will it ever be over? Will there ever be a fucking end? Even if after all of this, even if there was an _after_ in Neil’s impossible life of never-ending pain and misery, he would still have these scars, this pain, this mark spread red and stark across his life.

_-_

_**ANDREW:** _

_Alright. So in those three months, what did you learn about them? What were they like?_

_**KARL:** _

_[ pause ]_

_Ben was...very quiet. Never rude, but he didn’t really play with the other children. No sports with the other boys, no nothing. We used to play exy in a field behind the school during free time, and he would always sit under a tree and watch...but he never joined in._

_**ANDREW:** _

_What else?_

_**KARL:** _

_He was very good at math, I remember. The other boys would ask to copy his work and Ben would always let them. He was a kind kid…_

_-_

_Nathaniel was smart. He was private. His mother kept him on a tight leash and I’m not yet sure if it wasn’t justified. They were running for their lives from a force that could not be reckoned with._

_Karl told us of a story when their school went on a trip to a local lake. You can hear the rest of it in the Audio Notes, but it’s not important, not in the grand scheme._

_What **is** , is that **something** happened at the school that Karl witnessed. S omething that I cannot and will not say, **something** we cut from the Audio Notes. It was exposed and because of it, Mary and Nathaniel fled shortly after. Where they went is unknown. We **do** know, that their trajectory may have led them to Scotland - according to an email we received and had planned to confirm. _

_-_

_That_ day only proved it - proved that there would be nothing but this for Neil for the rest of his life.

Because the look on Karl’s face was shock, disgust, revulsion and it all came barreling back. He remembered carefully schooling his face into the blank mask he’d been so accustomed to pulling on and walked away, went to class like nothing was wrong, and felt sick all day at the prospect of telling his mother. He’d fought with himself over it. It wasn’t like he was particularly attached to the school or the other kids or Germany.  

_I just hate leaving. Hate going. Hate running away._

Which is exactly what happened when he finally told her - when the guilt was too much.

His eyes blinked slowly back to reality, only to be swallowed by the dark room he’d started to call his own.

 _His own_.

Neil slid his clammy hand from his hair to his cheek and rubbed at the burn. His mind was in a place that could almost convince himself that if he looked in the mirror, he could still see the red print her hand made that day.

 _How could you be so careless? Do you want to die,_ **_Abram_ ** _? Do you want your mother to die?_

_No..._

He didn’t want her to die. Not then and not when he buried her bones on the California coast.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, the blood from a bite in his mouth he hadn’t realized he’d made, and the taste of ash sticking on his tongue.

_Breathe. Focus. Where are you?_

“New York City, upper east side. The apartment.”

His voice sounded empty, so empty it could echo in this room of _stuff_.

 _Stuff_ and _things_ and _attachments_ and _anchors_.

He tried to focus. Another breath in and out, he tried to see his clothes hanging in the closet - more clothes than he’d had when he came here. Some Matt just bought because he thought they’d look good on him.

More than would fit in a backpack, a duffel bag.

He dragged his eyes away, but they landed on the basket of laundry he’d been putting off doing. Even more clothes, more _things,_ and _stuff_ and _more, more, more._

When his eyes pulled away, they inevitably landed on the New York Lynxes paraphernalia he’d collected on the table beside his bed, then at Sir, still against his hip and still purring. Neil wet his lips, sighed, and ran his fingers through her fur.

_This is all a mistake. It’s dangerous. You’re being careless._

He knew that.

He just couldn’t find it in himself to care very much anymore.

_-_

_But, as you all may know, we ended up cutting our trip short. Scotland is still something on the table, a possible stop on a timeline that makes no real difference to where we must go next._

_In any event, we left Europe to fly directly home. Because before leaving, I’d decided that it was important to the investigation and my own mental sanity, to interview Nathan Wesninski._

_-_

He was running.

Outside, in a park.

He was in Queens.

And the sun beat down on him. He could feel the heat on the top of his freshly dyed brown hair and through his shirt at his shoulders.

He’d been scared of going out after the first time he tried running in Central Park. There had been too many people, too many people that all looked suspiciously suspicious. However, the more ~~dangerously~~ comfortable he grew here, the more he felt like he needed to get the fuck out of the apartment. Sure, there it was suitably safe and the treadmill was fine enough. But he needed to feel the ground beneath his feet - he needed to feel like he was moving _somewhere_ instead of staying in the same place.

So, now he was in Queens. Sometimes it was Brooklyn and sometimes when he felt sure enough, he tried Central Park, but his general rule was to never go to the same place twice in a row. It was a precaution.

 _Just in case_.

This park was small, but it suited his needs. The buildings here were smaller, the streets less crowded and it felt like it gave him a tiny moment to breathe. Everything was awash in greens and off whites with yellow compliments. The city was always so _gray_. At least here it was something new. Dirty, but fresh in a way that was hard to explain.

That was something he needed.

The Audio Notes were still playing in the back of his mind and he felt himself reeling. They weren’t even that important - not really. It’s not like they were telling in a way that would get Andrew closer to finding him. No, all they did was expose Neil’s wounds a little more; dig a little deeper; slice in just the right places.

Like giving Minyard and the general public ~~and himself~~ more ammo to demonize his mother. He knew she could be harsh and that she could be demanding on a very small child, but she was his mother. She tried to protect him the best she possibly could in such a shitty situation.

She _could’ve_ run. She _could’ve_ left him with Nathan. She _could’ve_ given him over to his father when the going got rough to be killed or worse - to become the next Butcher.

But she didn’t. Because she was his mother. And she fought tooth and nail to keep him safe, to make sure he survived. In life and now death... It felt like she would never stop.

_Because I won't._

None of those people who were interviewed knew who Mary _Hatford_ was, nor did they understand what she had to endure or sacrifice.

Neil ran faster. He didn’t stop until he was doubled over, hands on his knees, and gasping for breath. His legs were weak and he collapsed under a tree to stare up into the boughs. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of warmth on his skin and he tried to relish in the _solace_.

Maybe he would stay here... Stay until Minyard incredibly found him.

Maybe he would live here... Under this tree with the squirrels, the sparrows, and the sun.

In the end, he only stayed until his legs could carry him home.

Because against his best efforts and better judgment and every honed, sharp instinct - Matt and his apartment here home.

 _Home_.

_-_

_[ interlude ]_

_-_

Tuesday morning eventually rolled itself around. While Neil was cooking a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast (it was his turn to cook that day), he heard Matt call to him from the living room. He must have finally woken up after a late practice and team meeting the night before.

“Give me a minute,” Neil called back. He slid two eggs on Matt’s plate and one on his then added bacon and toast before carrying both plates into the living room. He sat one on the coffee table in front of Matt and then took one for himself as he folded his legs beneath him on the couch. Setting his plate in his lap, he asked, “What were you calling me for?”

Matt’s dreads were spiked in every which way at the top of his head. Neil wanted to fix them, but he didn’t think Matt would particularly appreciate it. When he whipped his head towards Neil, they flopped in more disarray as he pointed to the TV with his remote.

“Look,” he said, eyes flicking back to the screen. It was the guide description for something called ‘The Kathy Ferdinand Show’. Neil had no idea who she was or why Matt cared until he read the description.

‘ _Special Guest, Andrew Minyard from the Red Rabbits Podcast. Musical Guest, Trainwreck. Kathy bakes a cake.’_

~~_Fuck_ . ~~

“Do you want to watch?” Matt asked, side-eyeing Neil.

The really unfortunate thing about Matt was that he wasn’t fucking stupid. He knew something was wrong and he knew, or at least suspected, it had something to do with this stupid fucking podcast.

_Act natural._

Neil gave an unconcerned shrug while studying his bacon. “Sure, if you want.”

As the channel switched, commercials were still playing. And it was then, that Neil realized, he’d never actually seen who the fuck Minyard was. He’d heard that infuriatingly monotone voice more than he cared to, but he’d never tried to put a face to the name, nor had he taken time to really explore the website after the _basement_ panic attack. He supposed he should know who it was that was trying to ruin his already ruined life. That’s what a smart Neil would do.

But Neil evidently wasn’t the smartest.

When commercials cut, the show started and a theme song played. The host was a lady who looked like she’d seen a few too many nips and tucks, and who desperately needed a friend to tell her what she actually looked like.

He made slow work through his eggs and barely touched his bacon by the time the third commercial break in this half hour fucking show finally ended. He wished he hadn’t eaten at all, because when the show returned, a short blond man was sitting on a white chair beside Kathy’s glass desk. The camera wasn’t focused on him, but Neil thought he looked right, for the part of uncaring asshole.

This Andrew _fucking_ Minyard wore big black combat boots and black painted fingers to match. A pile of blond hair was tousled at the top of his head like he’d run his fingers through it over and over.

 _Probably took him an hour and a shit ton of product to look like that_.

Piercings shone from all over his face and the big round glasses he wore did nothing to hide hazel eyes - almost like molten honey under the lights of the studio and -

Neil stopped breathing for just a second.

He watched closely. Eyes narrowed. Breaths shallow. Listening. Waiting.

_‘I’m still a journalist.’_

Neil set his plate on the table beside Matt’s, keenly aware of how Matt gauged his every move. Swallowing hard, he desperately tried to keep the eggs in his stomach as he leaned back against the couch and Sir promptly jumped in his lap. Mindlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, but couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from the screen.

Andrew answered a question about the podcast.

 _‘No, it’s not about Nathan Wesninski. It’s about Mary and Nathaniel, his wife and son, and their disappearance.’_ The camera zoomed to a close up of Minyard’s face, and Neil felt the breath leave his body.

_His wife and son, his wife and son, his wife and son_

_and_

_honey colored eyes._

Neil stood, abruptly sending Sir jumping out of his lap with a discontented _meow_.

Matt turned to look at him ~~or maybe he didn’t turn at all~~ . “You okay, man?” he asked, looking closely ~~too closely~~.

Neil’s skin felt itchy and he could feel pressure at the balls of his feet - weight shifting, ready to bolt to his room.

He felt pain at the inside of his lip.

Tasted blood.

He swallowed again and tried to listen to that voice in his head demanding for him to

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re fine Nathaniel_.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just gonna go grab some water -” he might have muttered. His feet took him all the way to the kitchen. Somehow, a glass was in his hand and water filled it. The cool press of it against his skin was calming as he finally breathed another deep breath, then forced himself to turn back to the living room.

Neil stayed to the back, made himself to stay, to watch, to learn. Matt glanced over his shoulder but ultimately kept his focus on the TV where Andrew looked like he would very much like to shut Kathy Ferdinand’s mouth for her.

_Why would he even agree to do this?_

A shiver started at the base of his spin and traveled all the way to the back of his neck - like his body was warning him, telling him that something worse was to come.

And it did.

Because Kathy’s lips formed around the name _‘Riko Moriyama’_ and his hand gripped the glass tighter.

_Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back._

Riko was just as cocky in his late twenties as he was when he was eight years old. He swaggered onto the stage with a level of confidence Neil wasn’t sure he would ever be able to attain and smiled a white-toothed grin as he greeted Kathy and sat in the chair across from Andrew’s with his ankle crossed over a knee.

Neil shivered again and forced himself to breathe once more. He shrugged his shoulders to try and chase the feeling away from his neck. His mind traced a path leading to the past to remember the Riko he’d known _before_.  

Riko Moriyama was the starting striker for the Baltimore Krakens and all around exy darling. His face was splashed across billboards for expensive underwear ads and sports attire. If there were comparison, he was the Michael Jordon of not only exy, but contemporary sports in America and Japan. Neil didn’t think of him like that though. Every image of Riko or utterance of his name that Neil had come across in the years between _then_ and _now_ have been unavoidable and Neil did everything he could to not engage.

Because that seemed dangerous.

~~And you’re so good at avoiding all things dangerous.~~

He didn’t read the articles, he didn’t watch the commercials or focus on Kraken games. He didn’t look at the stats.

He didn’t want to know.

Because Riko was too close now. Neil knew in the vaguest sense, that Riko had something to do with the documentary about his father. For some reason, that didn’t bother him as much as their past had. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because the world had a funny way of fucking with Neil his entire life and it seemed only right that the Moriyama's would do something so ludicrous as to make a documentary about their right-hand man, The Butcher.

Really, he didn’t want to remember Raven Academy and exy practice. He didn’t want to remember what it was like then, what his life could have been, what his life was now. He didn’t want to remember how proud of himself he had been back then - at five years old and able to play with the big kids because even though he was small, he was _fast_ . He didn’t want to remember playing with Kevin and Riko, nor did he want to remember the black marked numbers drawn on their faces. He didn’t want to think of how much he _wanted_ that. Even at five years old, he _wanted_ it. And when Riko told him _‘you’ll be number three one day’_ Neil thought all his problems would ~~could~~ disappear.

But it never happened. It never could, not with his life. And Neil knew he was much better off, even considering everything he’d been through.

And now here Riko was. On the stage with... Andrew. Talking about him and his father and his mother and was this fate? Was this the universe again? Was this someone pulling strings and tying knots and cutting threads?

_There’s no such thing as fate._

_-_

_Selfish, perhaps._

_Stupid, certainly._

_Before we left for Europe, I took the liberty of giving Allison Reynolds something to do. She’s been a constant presence at the studio since we went to Florida, so I decided to put her to work._

_I asked her to get me an interview with Nathan using her connections in the entertainment industry. I wanted a face to face. I wanted to tell him what a piece of shit he was. I wanted to be able to look him in the eye and see if he would lie to me, because for some reason - I felt like I would know. I felt like if I asked him what happened to Mary and Nathaniel, that I would be able to **tell** . _

_Reynolds came through. She secured me an interview with Nathan, but the price was an appearance on the Kathy Ferdinand show. A tiny piece of my soul for an interview with a killer. I took the deal._

_I’m sure by now everyone has seen the shit show that ensued, so I don’t need to rehash it._

_I’m probably not allowed to anyway - cease and desist and all that shit._

_So._

_Kathy Ferdinand was just as one would expect her to be. A loud, obnoxious, conniving little snake. She invited you-know-who to the stage, knowing it was going to cause drama - because that’s what she does - and everything popped off from there._

_The interview devolved from discussing the podcast, to dragging up my own past, into things that I’m not sure I’m at liberty to discuss. You know. CnD and all. That. shit._

_Anyway._

_-_

Neil didn’t hear the rest of the interview - not really. Something about the documentary and Andrew almost beating some guys to death or something. It all seemed inconsequential.

He walked back to the couch and sat beside Matt again with his water when it was over. Sir resumed her position in his lap and Neil put a hand to her head, taking a sip, and praying Matt couldn’t hear the way his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“That was some crazy shit,” Matt said, muting the TV and turning to look at Neil. Neil nodded in agreement and continued to stroke Sir, avoiding Matt’s gaze. When Neil didn’t respond, he continued.

“I don’t even know why they had Riko on the show. He’s a fucking prick. Thinks his shit don’t stink just because his family has a fuck ton of money.” Neil could practically hear Matt’s eyes rolling in his head as he relaxed further into the couch. “My family has money too, but you don’t see me walking around like that. I just assume I’ve seen and done worse shit than anyone else in the room.”

Neil swallowed, but his mouth was suddenly very dry.

 _If only he knew_.

“Yeah,” Neil found it in him to manage. “He seems like an asshole. I’m going to go shower and run some errands.” Neil started to stand, but Matt stood with him - still watching, assessing, monitoring.

“Cool, I’ll come with.”

Neil might have nodded, he might not have. He did, however, end up in his room, in the bathroom, with the glass of water clinking on the counter when he set it down. He avoided his reflection as he turned the shower on.

Somehow, he ended up from point A to B because he felt the water beat on his skin as he sat at the bottom of the shower. It was warm, steam surrounded him and he breathed through the steam as he closed his eyes - only to see a pair of honey and hazel staring back at him.

And for some reason, Neil laughed into the emptiness.

_-_

_I left that studio feeling disgusting. It was a spectacle and I was angry that I was made to take part in it. Bringing her **‘special guest’** out should not have been a surprise. I should have seen it coming. _

_I should’ve seen it **all** coming. _

_This is what I get for expecting basic human decency, I guess._

_But, in spite of all of that, in spite of the spectacle, and the guest, and the general bullshit I had to endure, it worked._

_I received a call before I even left the parking lot, confirming that I was scheduled for an interview with Nathan at 10 o’clock Friday morning, at North Branch Correctional Institution. Renee and I readied ourselves and made our way to Cumberland, Maryland._

_What happened when we got to the prison was more ammo for that clusterfuck I mentioned earlier._

_-_

Thursday, Matt had a rare night off from practice, which meant Neil didn’t have to be at work to clean the stadium. They ate a dinner of take-out chinese and sat on the living room floor, across the coffee table from each other. Sir was seated in between them both, her tail swishing on the floor as she looked back and forth between their plates. Once or twice she put her paw on Neil’s arm as he lifted his fork to his mouth, little nose twitching as she sniffed the air.

Neil had just given her a tiny piece of the center of his chicken, when Matt asked, “Truth or dare?”

Neil looked up at him quickly with a brow raised, only to see a grin splitting Matt’s face mischievously, one corner higher than the other.

“Absolutely not, Matthew.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be boring. Truth or dare?” Matt’s smile was infectious. Neil had spent all Wednesday trying to talk himself out of a spiral. It wasn’t working - not until Matt insisted on an Exy game after Neil was done cleaning the stadium. When he was properly worn out, bending over his knees with no breath left, he was able to feel himself _breathe_ again.

Neil found himself grinning back now, despite his best efforts.

“Fine.”

_Fucking idiot._

“ _YES_. Okay, truth or dare?” He pointed his chopsticks in Neil’s direction, “You have to pick one and you have to follow through.”

Neil sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dare.” That seemed safer, somehow.

“Oh ho, a brave one! Okay, let’s see...” Matt adjusted his chopsticks in his hand and put a finger to his chin as he looked around the room. “Okay, I’ve got it. I dare you to drink all the pickle juice from the jar in the fridge.”

Neil raised an eyebrow and dropped his fork in his empty container. “Are you joking? Pickle juice?”

“Thems the rules, my guy. Do it or take the consequence.” Matt was leaned forward on the table now, chopsticks abandoned and hands clasped together. His grin turned wicked and he looked like the world’s nicest fucking villain.

“What’s the consequence?”

“You have to play the rest of the game blindfolded. I got a real nice one in my room. Silk. I used to go with this girl that-”

“Okay, fine. Please stop talking.” Neil stood and made his way to the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, the pickle jar was pushed towards the back, one lone pickle spear floating in the depths of the juice.

“Hey, yo! Let me get that pickle!” Matt called from the living room between fits of laughter. Sometimes Neil wondered if Matt were a man or a child. ~~But maybe that’s one of the reasons why he liked Matt - his ability to let go and _live_~~ ~~.~~ Neil rolled his eyes and took the whole jar back to the coffee table with him. He opened it and fished the pickle out for Matt.

Germs be damned.

Matt didn’t seem to give a fuck anyway. He crunched into the pickle and used the rest to gesture to Neil in a clear signal to _get on with it_.

So, Neil did.

_Is this what life would have been if you grew up normal? In high school, with friends and connections and -_

He tipped the jar to his lips, closed his eyes, and held his breath. The entire jar went down in three big gulps and Neil slammed it onto the table when he was done, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Matt was looking at him wide-eyed, pickle spear halfway to his mouth.

“God damn, Josten. You’re hard as fuck. Not even a wince... I’m suitably impressed.”

Neil grinned and took a mock bow. The truth was, he’d had to eat and drink a lot worse than that when times were hard on the run with his mom. Pickle juice was champagne in comparison.

“Okay,” Neil cleared his throat and replaced the lid on the jar. “My turn.”

Matt sat up straight as if steeling himself. “Do your worst, little buddy.”

_Little buddy._

Neil snorted. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

_Of course._

With a slow nod, Neil didn’t need to think of a question. He knew why Matt was doing this, and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop it. So, he slowly started opening the can of proverbial worms.

“Okay... why are you so fucking nice all the time? Like, what happened in your life to make you not suspicious of anyone, ever?”

Matt laughed and shook his head. His eyes didn’t move away from Neil, not as a dread fell in his face and he pushed it back. Open honesty shone across his face and Neil briefly wondered what that felt like.

“It’s not that I’m not suspicious. Sorry, dude. But you’re suspicious as fuck.”

“I really am.”

 _Shut up, fucking idiot_.

“You really are,” Matt nodded but didn’t push. Instead, he continued with a shrug, “I guess I  just try to give people the benefit of the doubt. I used to be a drug addict. Heroin.” He stopped to gauge Neil’s reaction.

Neil just blinked. “I... I’ve seen the track marks, Matt. I kind of figured-”

Matt cut him off. “Yeah, well... I don’t really try to hide it.” One of his fingers traced over his forearm, But he continued. “I’ve been through a lot of shit. I come from money. My parents were divorced and didn’t speak. I lived with my Dad in high school and it was just party after party after party. Like, a constant fucking flow. Drugs and women and men and whatever made me feel good, you know?”

Neil _didn’t_ know, but he nodded anyway. He’d never been _allowed_ to do anything just because it made him feel good.

“Anyway,” Matt tapped the table. “I was in a really bad spot - hit rock bottom. If it wasn’t for people still believing in me enough to get me help and make sure I stayed sober, I’d be dead... Or in prison. And when you look like me, it’s usually both.” Matt smiled sadly, just a lift at the corner of his lips, but it was consequential. His warm eyes still held Neil’s and his entire face softened even further, if possible. “So, now I try to pay it forward. I try to assume the best in people. I want to help like I was helped. That’s all.”

Neil nodded slowly and said quietly, “That makes sense. I guess I’m just so used to questioning everyone and everything.”

Matt looked at Neil for a moment longer before asking, “Truth or dare?”

Neil had broken his gaze for half a second, but they went right back to Matt’s warm eyes at the question. He felt something stir in his chest. It was light and fluttery and terrifying.

“Truth.”

_Fuck it._

Matt cocked his head, but there was no alarm or excitement. It was just steady calm as he asked, “What are you running from?”

Neil swallowed hard and looked to Sir as she pawed at his empty takeout container. Wetting his lips, he gathered the container and pickle jar before standing to bring them to the kitchen. However, before he could take a step, he looked to Matt’s eyes, held them for a moment as everything inside him screamed to keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Everything.”

_-_

_**FEMALE SPEAKER:** _

_We’re ready for you._

_-_

_All that preparation, all the hours, the anticipation, the anxiety, all of it. For this._

_-_

_**FEMALE SPEAKER:** _

_You can have a seat at the table_

_One of the CO’s will lead you back to Miss Walker when you’re done. You have thirty minutes. It’s 10:12 right now._

_-_

_For a couple of sentences, a series of white hallways, and an empty room._

_-_

_[ blaring siren. commotion ]_

_**ANDREW:** _

_[ yelling ]_

_What the fuck is happening?!_

_**MALE CORRECTIONS OFFICER:** _

_Just come with me_

_[ heavy steps. constant siren. unintelligible noise from walkie talkie ]_

_**ANDREW:** _

_Where is the woman I came here with?! I need to get to her!_

_-_

_For a fucking riot to suddenly break out, send sirens blaring, and ultimately, kick Renee and me off the premises._

_-_

_[ heavy door opening ]_

_[ siren muffling ]_

_**MALE CORRECTIONS OFFICER:** _

_There’s been a breach somewhere in the prison. That could mean an inmate unaccounted for, a riot, or a number of other things._

_-_

_Yes. A number of other things._

_-_

_**MALE CORRECTIONS OFFICER:** _

_Grab your things and hurry._

_**ANDREW:** _

_No, this is bullshit. We’ll wait here all fucking day if we have to. Take care of whatever the fuck it is, gain control of your fucking prison, and do your job. I scheduled this interview and I intend to fucking keep it. We’re supposed to fly home tomorrow._

_**MALE CORRECTIONS OFFICER:** _

_This is security protocol. You can’t stay here and quite frankly, you’re preventing me from doing my job._

_[ stubborn pause ]_

_Any outside visitors have to be evacuated immediately. There’s nothing we can do and if you don’t comply, you’ll be arrested._

_-_

_That’s it._

_Hours upon hours of preparation, sleepless nights -_

_That’s as far as I got. A room and an alarm._

_We had no idea what happened when we left - all we knew was that there was some sort of security breach. So, Renee and I extended our stay to Sunday in hopes of getting a call saying we could come back and proceed with the interview._

_That didn’t happen._

_-_

Friday afternoon, Neil was running again. This time, a Brooklyn park stretched around him. The colors around were darker than queens, but it was quiet and the trees were more densely packed. Neil weaved down the path and let his mind go back to the night before.

Matt asked no questions after Neil’s answer last night and Neil went to bed after cleaning up. Really, Matt was too good, too kind, too trusting for his own good. And even though Neil now knew why, he couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of his kindness. Especially when this entire thing could end very badly.

_Fuck._

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

_‘What are you running from?’_

_Everything._

His past, his non-existent future, and the now - where he was in a place he was cozy and _‘safe’_ and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

_Everyone._

It seemed like Minyard was doing everything he fucking could to make sure he could be followed.

Neil wound his way back uptown and to the apartment. His legs were numb, his feet ached, but it felt good to wear himself out. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm when he was finally in the building.

He’d learned his lesson about using his shirt.

Neil stared at his reflection in the shiny elevator doors and for a moment, just a moment, he contemplated _it_.

What would Matt think, he wondered, about his red hair and blue eyes? It’d been so long since Neil had really seen them. His hair was still freshly dyed and he tried not to look when he took his contacts out. Would Matt kick Neil out if he knew the truth?

He shook his head at himself.

_Of course, he would. Who in their right mind would keep you around?_

_-_

_[ interlude ]_

_-_

Once he was showered, changed, and feeling a little more human, he grabbed an apple and sat on the couch. Matt was already at practice and it was a few hours before Neil needed to be at the stadium. He flipped channels - something he rarely did. He was reminded why when he came across a flashing **BREAKING NEWS** headline.

Too curious for his own good, he stopped, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

_‘We’re receiving reports that there was some kind of security breach at the North Branch Correctional Institution in Cumberland, Maryland. It appears as if some guards and some inmates were both injured. Those are all the details we have at the moment, but we’ll update as soon as we learn more.’_

Security Breach? What the fuck did that mean? Like a riot? Or an escape?

No. An escape would be bigger news, wouldn’t it? Especially if it was his father? That news would fucking be everywhere - there’d be a nationwide manhunt. So, maybe it was just a riot...? Maybe someone did him a favor and beat the shit out of Nathan.

That’s it. That’s all it probably was.

But what if it wasn’t...?

_No no no_

_Not an escape._

_Never an escape._

_It couldn’t be an escape._

-

_I saw the news close to 5AM Saturday morning. As you can imagine, I was only the teensiest bit annoyed. Because... It all just seems so **convenient** , doesn’t it? For Nathan to be murdered literal minutes before our interview was scheduled? _

_I have my theories._

_So, here’s where things get sticky._

_I had a hunch. I researched that hunch. I made a call. The hunch was proven correct._

_Renee and I made a detour and learned a few things about Nathaniel’s childhood that suddenly made shit a lot clearer._

_That being said, I can’t share any of it with you. Not my hunch, not my confirmation, not even my theories._

_I’m sorry listeners. I really fucking am. Because as a journalist, transparency is something I hold dear. It’s something I treasure - something I’ve based my entire fucking career around._

_**But.** _

_And that’s a big fucking **but** . _

_I will not risk the safety of those around me, as a means to an end. I will not report on something that, while infinitely intriguing, ultimately does not add anything to the case. It doesn’t move us further, doesn’t get me any closer to finding Mary and Nathaniel, it doesn’t deny you the chance to keep searching._

_Are you sensing my frustration?_

_-_

It wasn’t.

Saturday night Matt had a home game, so the two of them were back at the apartment late.

Neil was exhausted. The team the NY Lynxes played were from Miami and they had the worst fans imaginable. The stadium was a wreck by the end of the game and it took himself and an army of janitors over two hours to clean the entire place.

_-_

_Here’s another bit of honesty for you. While I am now feeling much more myself, those two weeks took everything out of me. If felt like my soul had been sucked dry by dementors, looming and haunting and ready to pounce - by shark toothed gossip show hosts, and maximum security prisons, and conspiracy theories proven not to be conspiracies._

_It was probably the first moment in my entire time researching, and traveling, and interviewing, that I felt like I was getting nowhere._

_All of this is to say, I had to regroup. I didn’t stop after Ferdinand’s to process what happened. I should’ve. Because you-know-who tried to use my past against me. **He** tried to bring up something that happened when I was a **minor** , to throw me off and turn you - the listeners - and the media against me. _

_The truth is, as much as I talk about transparency here, I haven’t been completely transparent about myself - my past._

_This is mostly due to the fact that it has absolutely nothing to do with this case. It adds nothing and it does not help in the search. However, I think it **would** help explain part of the reason why I take this case as personally as I do. _

_So, here it fucking goes._

_-_

Matt waited for him though, because Matt always did. They rode the subway together and Neil wondered if they looked weird standing beside each other. Matt was a foot taller than him at 6’3 and Neil had to crane his head back in order to be able to see him when they were talking. It was... nice though. Despite the fact that Neil was constantly looking over his shoulder and traveling with Matt was like traveling with a fucking flag post, it was nice to know that he had someone again.

_Stupid._

_-_

_I grew up in the system. In foster care. The woman who birthed me, gave me up when I was born and for most of my childhood, until I was 13 years old, I was moved around from home to home. At that point, I ended up how many kids like me do - in juvie. The how’s and why’s aren’t important. What **is** , is that during that time, I met my brother via a police officer who contacted my birth family. After I was released, I lived with him and the woman who gave me up - until she found herself indisposed. _

_At that point, my older cousin stepped in. Yes, the one who lives in Germany. He was only a few years older than us, but he was legal and did the best he could to take care of the both of us and see that we made it through high school, while the man he loved was waiting for him across the Atlantic._

_It was during this time that the fight you-know-who alluded to, happened._

_We, my brother, cousin, and I, worked at a local club. One night after closing, four men cornered my cousin and attempted to beat the shit out of him and possibly kill him for, as they so eloquently put it, **‘being a fag’**. _

_I didn’t hesitate._

_I didn’t stop to think._

_I did the only thing that felt right at that moment. And that was to protect my family._

_So I did._

_All four men ended up in the hospital and it was only through the help of an incredible lawyer and therapist, people very close and very important to me, that I didn’t end up not only back in juvie, but tried as an adult._

_In the end, I ended up with more family and a new guardian who knew how to handle the various traumas and mental instability my brother and I dealt with in our childhoods. I will forever be grateful to my cousin for doing his best, for trying to step in and give us a family. But, I will also be forever grateful to the new guardian - for lifting the burden off my cousin and allowing him to live his life as a normal 19-year-old should._

_-_

When they got back to the apartment, Neil went directly to the kitchen. He flipped on the coffee maker and heard Matt turn on the TV as it brewed.

Ever since the breaking news yesterday, he’d been avoiding the TV. Part of him didn’t want to know what happened and the part that did, he stifled down because wasn’t it better to stay in the dark?

_No._

_-_

_I think it’s important to say, that I would do it all again in a fucking second. I would protect my family and I would put the four of those fucks right back in the hospital. I need you all to understand that, moving forward. Because I know there have been questions about you-know-who's comments, and I want to make my intentions clear._

_I also mention foster care because it’s part of the reason why this case is so personal. Although, no, Nathaniel was not in the system - he was still a child of abuse and neglect. He was still a child of trauma and unimaginable pain._

_This case is hard for me to swallow sometimes - when I see things like **‘don’t be bad’** or a school picture of a child who has all the outward appearances of a normal kid. _

_I looked normal, too._

_I just want to help. I just want to make sure wherever they are, they’re safe and have what they need. I want to tell their story in their own words if they’ll let me._

_That’s my motivation._

_That’s my story._

_-_

Logically, he knew whatever the news had been it likely had nothing to do with his father. There were probably hundreds of insane inmates in that prison and the possibilities were endless.

_Still._

Neil poured himself a cup and didn’t bother with one for Matt (he didn’t like to drink caffeine so late at night). He took a small, cautious sip and felt the steam wet his skin as it lifted into the air. The burn was expected and welcomed. With a small hum to himself, he made his way to the living room and stopped just behind the couch.

_-_

_[ interlude ]_

_-_

Because there it was.

On the screen.

His father’s grinning mugshot, his father’s icy eyes, his father's _face_ \- _Nathaniel’s face_.

_‘...to report that the Butcher of Baltimore, Nathan Wesninski, has been killed in a prison riot at North Branch Correctional Institution…’_

Neil didn’t feel the smooth warmth of the mug slide from his fingers. He didn’t feel the hot liquid as it splashed over his bare legs and feet. Didn’t feel Matt’s hands around his arms, shaking him to try and get him to come back from _wherever_ he went.

_Run._

He wrenched himself out of Matt’s grip and ran for his room - Matt’s room - **_the_** room. He slammed the door, or at least he thought he did, before Matt could get to it and flipped the lock.

His body was on autopilot. Hands shaking, light-headed, shallow breaths, racing _beat beat beat_ of his pulse in his ears.

_No no no no no no no no no no no_

_Get your shit and go._

_You shouldn’t have stayed._

_Dangerous - too dangerous._

There was a bag in front of him. He started throwing anything, everything his hands landed on into it.

Matt was pounding on the door.

“Neil! Neil, what the fuck?! Talk to me, what’s going on!?”

Neil ignored him. His hands kept moving, kept shoving things into the bag as he tried ~~and failed~~ to keep his mind blank.

_He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. He’s gone. Someone killed the killer._

_Gone, gone, gone. And he’s not coming back._

Neil made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Nathan was dead.

The Butcher was dead.

His father was dead.

And Andrew?

 _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew_.

With his hazel eyes and sharp tongue.

Andrew was getting closer. Andrew would find him. Andrew would lead them here.

His father’s men.

~~_They’re going to want revenge_ _._ ~~

Lola was still out there. Lola had killed his mother. Lola was all red.

 _Red, red, red._ Lola was all red and she would come.

She would follow Andrew because Nathan is dead now and she would be angry.

Romero and Jackson.

They would all come with guns and knives. They would come here, to this place, that was a home and this person -

_-_

_I regrouped. After we got back from Maryland, I took a few days to facetime my niece, and cuddle my cat, and be a fucking potato. Because self-care and knowing your own mental boundaries is important. I hope everyone listening knows that. And I hope you all are able to get the care and help we all sometimes need - no matter what have or have not been through._

_You’re all valid._

_-_

Matt. They would come and they would kill Matt to get to Neil.

_No._

Neil would give himself to them willingly before he let that happen.

Matt with warm eyes and kind words and _eat some fucking protein bro_.

Neil screamed.

He screamed and threw his bag and fell to his knees and clutched the back of his neck with both hands. It wasn’t tight enough, it wasn’t grounding. He was floating away.

_Mary and Nathan and Lola and Kevin and Riko and Andrew and Matt._

He heard a crash in the distant part of his mind that wasn’t actively trying to shut down and hands were on him. He tried to fight back. He tried to get _away._

_Don’t take me._

_Please, don’t take me._

_-_

_Anyway._

_That’s it from me. That’s all she wrote and that’s all I can get out right now._

_I’m tired, but over the hump of this... delay, there is something big beyond it. I can feel it._

_Next week, Renee and I are heading to the west coast. We don’t know what happened after Germany, but we do know that Mary and Nathaniel were allegedly spotted in Seattle, June 12, 2004. According to our timeline, that’s next on the list. Luckily, we have a few leads that may lead... lead to **something**. _

_-_

But the hands did not relent - did not let go. Big arms wrapped around him and he was pulled into a hard embrace. An embrace that was warm and smelled like _Matt._ All shea butter and coconut oil and -

Neil didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the strength Matt was trying to ignorantly to give. But he was powerless. Neil was powerless to fight against it. He closed his eyes and buried his face into Matt’s chest - felt his hands lift to clutch at Matt’s shirt.

“Tell me,” Matt said, and Neil had never heard him sound so determined, so demanding. “Whatever it is, tell me, Neil. So I can help you.” He squeezed Neil tighter, put his chin on top of his head.

 _I’m so tired_ , he wanted to say. _Just let me leave this place. Let me keep you safe._

But all that came out when Neil moved his face to speak, all he could manage to say was something he couldn’t remember speaking aloud since he was a very small child.

His fingers twisted tight in Matt’s shirt and the words formed around his lips.

_-_

_But until then, I’m your host, Andrew Minyard._

_-_

“My name is Nathaniel Wesninski,” he whispered. 

_-_

_Keep searching._

_-_

“And my father is dead.”

_-_

_[ outro ]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in to another episode! This was a tough one for Andrew and all of us on the team as well. Luckily, we’re a supportive unit over here at the Foxhole Network. Stay tuned to the [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [webpage](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for updates and Andrew and I on the west coast next week. Don't forget to send any and all tips to our email at foxholenetwork@gmail.com.  
> Keep searching!  
> \- R


	11. Ashleigh Miller: Blog Post Titled - I Worked with Nathaniel Wesninski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blog post by Ashleigh Miller, regarding Nathaniel Wesninski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the creators:  
> With a bit of deliberation, we decided to post this blog post on here so everyone can see it. We know that some of you don't keep up with the blogs and this can be easily missed. So! We're posting it here as well. 
> 
> You can follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)!  
> And stay up to date with Ashleigh on her own blog! [ssdgm-u-know](https://ssdgm-u-know.tumblr.com/)  
> Send any tips in to foxholenetwork@gmail.com :)

Posted 9:26PM @ssdgm-u-know

* * *

 

I’m not crazy. Crazy people probably claim they’re not crazy. But I’m not. I fucking swear, I’m not.

These past two months have been wild. I’ve been trying to put it into words, but it’s been really fucking hard, so you’re all (if anyone is reading this) going to have to bear with me.

I’ve tried contacting the Red Rabbits team and Andrew Minyard several times to no avail. No emails back, barely any consideration - I sent another message last night and received the expected Minyard™ response. And like, listen, I get it. They probably get shit like this all the time. People claiming to have met, seen, whatever whatever with Nathaniel Wesninski. I’m sure a lot of them are real, but more of them are just plain fucking fakes.

I’m not a fucking fake. I know I’m not. This isn’t me trying to garner attention and say LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME! I’ve stayed far away from the fandom, have not engaged in any chats, or really reblogged anything red rabbits related. Because although, if you know me, it seems like it’s something I would totally fucking do and sure, I would most certainly be on. Top. of. This. shit. I don’t find it fair to the guy I know/knew.

Because I’m positive, without a shadow of a doubt, I worked with Nathaniel Wesninski.

**-**

I know that sounds weird. ‘I worked with Nathaniel Wesninski’, ‘I brought coffee every morning for Nathaniel Wesninski’, ‘Nathaniel Wesninski walked me home’. I’ve probably repeated those lines a million fucking times, just trying to get it through to my head, and it still catches me off guard every time.

But it’s true. Or at least I think it’s true. If it’s not, this is certainly a fucked up series of events, following the drop of the first episode of Red Rabbits. Like. That’s for fucking sure.

And if I’m wrong, I’m totally okay with being called crazy. Maybe I am? But I don’t think so.

Here’s why.

-

I guess I should start from the beginning. Context and all that.

I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. You don’t need to know what my parents did or if they’re still together, you don’t need to know that one embarrassing thing I did in middle school, or how I totally became a ‘This is not a phase, mom’ meme. What you do need to know, is that I’ve been here for all 24 years of my life - never even left Arizona. I know what people are like here and I know when someone doesn’t belong.

Well, he didn’t belong and I can’t even really explain to you why. Keeping to yourself isn’t exactly a character trait not shared by fellow Arizonians or, you know, other fucking people. But this was different. This wasn’t even need-to-know basis, this was borderline ‘you don’t know me, I don’t know you, let’s keep it that way’. Does that make sense?

Anyway, I’m getting out of order here.

For the past 5 years, I’ve worked at this bookstore called The Book Nook. I knew the previous owner - a really sweet old man that had the place stacked with anything from rare titles to NYT best sellers. He hosted author signings, meet-and-greets, book events, you fucking name it. About 3 years into my job there, he retired and passed the place down to his grandson. I don’t think I need to name him, but let’s just say, ‘G’ wasn’t the best boss in the world. He ran the place into the ground, laid off more than half our staff, and despite how hard those of us that remained tried, the place fell into utter disarray.

7 months ago, we got a new application for a guy I won’t name. If he’s not Nathaniel, I’m not going to call him that. So, let’s just say his name is NJ. NJ was probably a year or two older than me. He was short, brown hair, brown eyes. I’m positive he wore contacts. I don’t know what color was underneath, and maybe he just had glasses, but preferred not to wear them. Considering how he dressed, I don't think it would’ve been a style choice - but, maybe I’m just getting into conspiracy territory. Anyway, NJ needed a job and my other coworker was about to move. It was perfect. He started the next day.

Right off the bat, NJ was weird. Not weird in the sense that he had an oddly heavy interest in true crime (me), but weird in the sense that it kind of seemed like he just existed. Does that make sense? He spoke only when necessary, would barely smile, and he never made eye contact. Honestly, he gave off a vibe that he wasn’t all that comfortable. With what, I didn’t know. I thought, maybe he was just out of his element. I could tell he wasn’t from ‘round here, so maybe he was new to town, or he’d just undergone something serious. Parents dying, drug addiction, I don’t fucking know. Just something. It was in the way he held himself. Like he was ready to bolt at any second.

To be like. Completely upfront. I thought he might have been selling drugs or something. He seemed like he was caught up in some risky business. Only because whenever he entered the shop, he’d scan the place every morning from the register. His eyes would take everything in, before he went about his day. And when he left, he would look both ways, like he was making sure the coast was clear, before he went home - which, that's a whole other story, we’ll get to later.

But you know. That’s not fair on him to just assume he was in risky shit, so I thought maybe that’s just how he is. I never questioned it. I just tried to be as nice as I could. Maybe this guy just needed a friend, someone to talk to, someone that he could feel... I don’t know. Safe? With?

And maybe I’m not the best person for that. As you can clearly see if you’ve been following me for a while, I like creepy shit. I like witches and vampires, horror stories and ghosts, I love murder mysteries and I’m a complete slut for true crime. Not that fucked up shit, let me like. Make that clear. In the past two weeks of trying to see what’s going on in this fandom (Red Rabbits) I’ve noticed that some of y’all are seriously fucked up. I guess for myself, I just find things like true crime interesting. I think it’s more of how people overcome such horrors. How they pick themselves up after something horrific happens or how fucked this country is when a killer is not only on the loose, but doesn’t get tried for half the shit they committed. I don’t know. I think it’s interesting. The human mind is a fucked up thing and it’s wild how shit turns for some.

Anyway, tangent. I’m known for those.

So like I was saying, maybe my interests aren’t the best to try and befriend a guy clearly hiding something. But, I will admit, I’m maybe not as observant as I’ve been giving myself credit for. Which, you’ll come to see why in a few paragraphs (if I ever get there. ugh).

Nonetheless, I tried. I tried to make the guy comfortable, feel welcomed. I’ve always found the Book Nook to be an escape from the shit outside it’s doors. I kinda hoped it would be the same for him and I think, maybe, it was at some point at least.

I’d bring him coffee in the mornings (wasn’t hard. He’d just drink it black. Gross but respect), help him close, try to give him hours that seemed best for him because for some reason, I felt like he needed either the distraction or the money. And like, he was a good worker too. Came in on time every morning, was there to every shift, never called in sick, he’d get all the shit we had to do done, and when I didn’t feel like doing something, or he could tell I didn’t want to do it, he’d take care of it himself. NJ, though weird, was a good fucking guy.

So weeks pass, then months. We weren’t really friends I don't think, but I’d like to believe he was at least comfortable with me. I mean, he’d contribute to conversation more, even if he wasn’t listening (if you’re reading this. I know you weren’t. You weren’t very convincing - or maybe you are... considering I’m making this blog post wondering if you are who I think you are. -, but I appreciated the effort. So, thank you). Every time I’d go off on my tangents, he’d go to the sports section of the store and reorganize the shelves a million times. Idk if he knew I knew this, but I could tell. Considering the amount of customers we had every day (10 if we were lucky), the sports section could only get so fucking messy. Anyway, when he’d go there, I laid off. I think it was sort of his safe space? Anyway.

Weeks, months, we had a comfortable sort of coexistence. Then, one night it changed - I thought, for the better.

It was the 14th of April. We were due to close up together and I’d just gotten my hands on a really good book. I was engrossed - like, completely fucking sucked in. So NJ was closing up and I was getting shit together. He handed me my bag and I walked out to leave him to lock the door behind us. I was already onto the next block before NJ hailed me down and offered to walk me home. He said I’m not doing a great job DGM-ing - which like, if you’re not familiar, I like to live by the phrase SSDGM, Stay Sexy Don’t Get Murdered (from My Favorite Murder the podcast). I mean, first it was really clever coming from someone I thought was just nodding along to whatever the fuck I said, and second, was he calling me sexy? Anyway, not really important. What is, is that he offered to walk me home. So I agreed and the walk was nice. He let me talk about my book and dropped me at my apartment.

The next morning, he came in with a coffee maker? Said it was so I didn’t have to buy him coffee anymore and maybe that was rejection - I don’t know. It’s besides the point because that day, April 15, is when shit went weird.

If that date sounds familiar, it’s because April 15 is the day the Pilot episode of Red Rabbits dropped. It’s also the day I found out about the podcast in general. 

Everything started out fine. You know. Opening up the shop, organizing, waiting around like always. A few of my friends came in to make sure I knew. NJ escaped to the sports section while they were there and everything was pretty chill? When they left, I wanted to play the episode. So, I went over to ask NJ if he knew about it/wanted to listen, and if he didn’t, if it was okay for me to play it out loud. He didn’t seem to have any real opinion, so I went back to the register to play it from the iHome. I was. So fucking excited. Like. Ugh. Fuck guys, I was so excited to see what Andrew had to say. I watched to doc in theaters, but like, idk. It was interesting, but it rubbed me the wrong way, you know?

Anyway, he went to go have lunch in the backroom. Meanwhile, I was listening, thinking oh shit Minyard is doing this. Like, it kind of blew me away? So my friends also dropped off a poster of The Butcher and I had full intentions on hanging it up and throwing darts at his ugly ass face. But as I was hanging it, NJ came out from the back room and it was just weird.

I wasn’t really paying attention, so engrossed in the podcast, when he asked me what Andrew had just said and to rewind it. I was like, what? Because that’s a fucking weird reaction/response. Now, what happened next I only got from going over this again. But when I moved away from the poster, NJ froze. Like, deer in headlights kind of thing. His eyes went really wide and I could tell, he was heading towards a panic attack. But, next thing I know, he’s grabbing his fucking backpack and bolting out of the shop. Like, full speed, panic, get the fuck out of here leave.

I didn’t know what was wrong so I followed him. But he was running and the guy was FAST. I couldn’t catch up to him, not in fucking Jeff Campbells, and I couldn’t leave the shop unattented. So I sort of just.. Left him? I followed for a block or two, then went back to the shop and called G to let him know what just happened. G said I couldn’t leave the shop (as if anyone was going to fucking come in), so I didn’t. I stayed and I wanted for NJ to come back.

He didn’t.

Not then, not the next day, or the day after that.

-

A full week passed. I didnt end up finishing the episode until the next Sunday rolled around. There was no sign of NJ. No call, no appearance, nothing. Obviously that's reason for worry, but more than that, how he left was even more so. So I started to wonder, and think, and look back. I never finished the episode, paused it when I got back to the shop after chasing him, so it was near the same part when he bolted. I rewound the entire thing and had to guess what triggered him by subtracting the five minutes it took for me to follow him two blocks down and then the two blocks back.

Heres what I think it was:

_The trial never clarified who these two individuals actually were, but investigators suspected - and suspect - they could be Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski, the wife and son of your Butcher_

_They’ve been missing for the past 15 years._

_No missing persons report was ever submitted, but FBI investigators assigned to Nathan noted the sudden disappearance of wife, Mary and son, Nathaniel. Let me repeat: FBI investigators assigned to Nathan noted the sudden disappearance of Mary and Nathaniel . That note was left unanswered, unsearched. From what I understand, they accepted this disappearance as if it were expected._

Yeah. see that shit? I’m not sure which part exactly. Whether it was the first line, the second, or the mention of Mary and Nathaniel, but whatever it was, he heard that and ran. He heard that, saw the poster I was hanging, and ran.

Weird, much?

I mean. I brought this up to my friends and they said I was fucking crazy. I was starting to believe that too. But something about it just didn’t fucking feel right. If he wasn’t Nathaniel, why would he have run? If he wasn’t Nathaniel, then why was he so triggered after hearing that name? After seeing the Butchers face?

I know. I sound like a conspiracy theorist. But I’m not done.

First and foremost, I was worried about someone that I considered to be a... friend? Good acquaintance? And like, the thing is, the night before he ran, he was worried about my dumb ass, so he walked me home to make sure I got there safely (not like his 5’3, skinny ass could defend me. But still, the gesture was nice). What kind of person would I be, to not worry about him? To not want to do something to help? To not pay him the same fucking respect he gave me?

So I went to the cops. I tried to file a missing persons. The issue is, hes in his mid-twenties, he lives - I’m assuming - on his own, no family that I know of, and he left on his own volition. It isn’t exactly the easiest case to solve, nor is it even a dip on the cops fucking radar. They told me that. But I didn’t want to accept it. I made my white ass kick up a huge fuss at the precinct and eventually, a detective pulled me over and asked me to give him all the information I knew. I brought the application NJ had submitted to the Book Nook with any personal information, and the detective promised to look into it.

And look into it.

And look into it.

Two weeks passed. I called back every fucking day. Because I feel like that’s something NJ would do for me if I suddenly disappeared (or maybe not. I don’t really know. Maybe I’m just projecting). Eventually, I got a call from the detective while I was helping pack up the Book Nook (because surprise surprise! Good ol’ G ran the place into the ground and had to close its doors).

He finally updated me on what he found. And that was a whole lot of nothing. NJ didn’t show up on any searches, which means that he was never arrested and processed. And it seemed like that’s all he could do for me. He said that my ‘friend’ most likely left because of emotional issues or whatever. I don’t know. The guy was a fucking dick. He made it out to be like he would help me, but gave me a whole lot of nothing in return.

It was four weeks then, since the day he ran. Four weeks of absolutely no sign of him. I got his papers back from the detective, because evidently, they don’t keep shit like that, and filed it away on my own.

-

This shit kept me up for weeks. What could’ve happened to NJ? Is he Nathaniel? If he is, where was Mary? What’s going on?

I got the idea of going to his apartment a week later. The address was on the sheet, but there was no apartment number. It was part of a small complex - buildings pressed together on the edges of the city. It was on the iffy side of town. Everything was run down and silently crumbling in the way that neglected sections of cities do. Anyway, so I walked around and eventually, happened upon an old woman walking her dog. I asked her who the landlord was and she gave me his number from a phone book that was falling apart at the seams (that’s what I felt like).

I ended up going home because time was running out for me to find a job and that, unfortunately, took precedence.

Luckily, I locked down a barista spot at the cafe across the street from the old Book Nook (may she rest in peace) and finally got around to calling.

The landlord sounded like a slimy guy that probably smokes 2 packs a fucking day. He told me to meet him at the apartment and he’ll take me to NJ’s. I laughed in the fucking receiver, quickly apologized, and agreed.

I know what you’re all thinking.

ASHLEIGH. NO. SSDGM. WHY AREN’T YOU SSDGMING?!

Dont worry, jesus fucking christ. I did, I was, I may be an idiot 80% of the time, but cute-barista-boy-with-the-biceps™ (CBBWTB™ for short) wouldn’t let me go alone.

CBBWTB™ and I got there the next day and the guy was exactly as I expected. His hair was thin and he had several teeth missing as he smiled. I got a chill running up my spine when I realized that NJ fucking lived here. Anyway, he was wearing a suit that barely concealed his beer belly, and he escorted us to the last building. It was small - 6 floors and NJ apparently lived on the second. CBBWTB™ and I took the elevator and i made sure to stand p close to him, before we were let out and lead to the last room at the end of the hall. Slimy-Geezer tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. His key wouldn’t even fit? He tried to knock it down and when his beer-logged self couldn’t, CBBWTB™ was going to attempt before Slimy-Geezer stopped him. He grumbled that he was going to have to call a locksmith (with more colorful words) and disappeared.

And I don’t know what happened. We were waiting around for an hour, then two, and eventually night was falling and I wanted to get the fuck out of there. CBBWTB™ and I left.

I never fucking wanted to go back there again. I think i got my answer of NJ just enough. There was no smell, I don’t think he was in there dead and/or rotting. When we knocked, there was no answer. So that just leaves questions that answer what I originally was asking.

If NJ is Nathaniel, big if, then it explains why he didn’t put an address on his resume, why when i tried the number he gave, it was out of service - why the locks on his apartment were changed why he kept his distance and bolted the moment he heard that name out of Minyard’s fucking mouth.

It all just... makes sense?

The only thing really left to do was listen to the rest of the podcast. So, that’s what I’ve been doing for the past few weeks. I’ve been obsessed. I’ve listened to every episode 5 times, trying to put shit together. I’ve started at the photos that have been put out on the website a million. Fucking. Times. And it’s HIM. I KNOW it’s him. And I have a fucking picture to prove it.

You hear that Minyard? I have a PICTURE to prove it. Read my emails. Get back to me. The picture is in the last one I’ve sent and I swear to god - I know you cant see all of him, but it’s so clearly him. Freckles and all. That would make my encounter the most recent sighting. Isn’t that important to you? To your investigation? I even have the name he went by, what he wears, how he takes his coffee, what his fucking sneakers look like. I know how he smiles, I know how he rolls his eyes, I know that one of his bottom teeth are slightly crooked.

My number is in the last email. Call me and I’ll give you everything.


	12. Audio Notes #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Which one?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the Creators!
> 
> Hello everyone! Finally! It's up! Only took us forever. This one is a long one and oof, it's an emotional roller coaster. So please, while reading, keep that in mind.  
> Major CW warning for panic attacks and theres one part that references running a car into the water. So, if that makes you uncomfortable, it's towards the end and very VERY brief.  
> Now for really important shit!  
> The Transcript for these notes are REALLY IMPORTANT! Even if you are not engaging with the world (which, it's never too late!!! We have a lot of newbies joining in!), it's important for the story!!!!! So please, when you're finished reading, check out the transcript [HERE](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1W6wKVCFhDlEAZcKJpSt8a-E-g0v8PZ_uh38vR-wfP3Y/edit?usp=sharing)!  
> We'll remind you again at the end of the chapter :)  
> I think that's it. As always, thank you all so, so, so so so so soooo fucking much for all the love and support. Holy wow. It still blows us away. We recently hit 1000 followers on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) (which you can find [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) <<<) and we're now over 11k hits here! omfg?!?!?!!! That's absolutely insane and we cannot thank you enough!
> 
> Alright. Enough enough enough. As perusual, the same rule that applies to all Audio Notes apply here. You only know whats between [ Record on/off ] and if you're engaging with the world, make sure you check with the transcript to see what you actually do/don't know! We hope you enjoy this chapter <3

Kevin jumped when Andrew threw the open yearbook on the table - sports spread with the picture of Raven Academy’s Exy team smiling up at him.

They were at Kevin’s apartment. Andrew made his way there as soon as he dropped Renee off at her place after landing back in South Carolina. He needed answers.

Now.

“You want to tell me why you’ve felt the need to lie to me this whole time?” Andrew couldn’t pry his teeth apart. He was seething through them. “Why you didn’t bother to let me know that you _knew_ Nathaniel?”

He was angry. So _fucking_ angry. Bee buzzed and she buzzed and she buzzed, but he didn’t want to listen - didn’t want to acknowledge that there was something more beneath all this _anger_ , something else driving it forward.

He was hurt.

It sounded silly, immature. But he was. Andrew was hurt. Hurt by the lies, hurt by the secrecy, hurt by the fact that Kevin couldn’t even fucking _look_ at him.

“It doesn’t matter.” Kevin murmured, staring at a spot on the table beside the yearbook, arms crossed over his chest. “It doesn’t help you find him.” He sighed and lifted his eyes a fraction. “He wasn’t there very long, Andrew. I was eight years old. It doesn’t matter.” When their eyes met, all Andrew could see (admit to seeing) was defeat.

“Bullshit.” Andrew couldn’t cap it. His control was starting to wane. “You knew I would want to know this. You _know_ more about this, I know you do. Why wont you just fucking _tell me_?” he spat, hands balled into fists by his sides and his voice rose slightly at the end.

Kevin closed his eyes, sighed again and shook his head as he leaned forward, “Keep it down, Andrew. Brianna is asleep and I don’t want her waking up to this.” He looked to the door behind him as if expecting to see her there. When his eyes returned to Andrew, he said, “She doesn’t know... about Nathaniel.”

_Hah. Perfect._

“Oh, well. I am _so_ glad I’m not the only one.” Andrew used the toe of his heavy boot to shove a chair out of his way so he stood closer to the edge of the table. You know. Just incase he had to _fucking flip it_. “Tell me what you know. What do the Moriyamas have to do with this Wesninskis? I’m not a fucking idiot, Kevin. This is too much of a coincidence. I just don’t understand why-”

“You _are_ an idiot,” Kevin hissed back. “You keep pushing and pushing and this is going to get you killed, Andrew. Do you not realize that yet? Do you not have an inkling of what you’re dealing with?” His thick brows furrowed and he uncrossed his arms. “You could _die_ . I didn’t tell you anything to _protect_ -”

“Don’t.”

“What? It’s true. I didn’t tell you to protect you because the less you know the better. Do you -” his eyes squinted and he pulled back his chin, “Do you honestly think I would be okay if something happened to you...?”

_Buzz_

“Did you ever stop to think,” he continued quietly, hands curling in his lap, “What this might mean for me? If _they_ found out I told you anything? What that would set in motion. Andrew, I’ve been free for so long-”

Andrew couldn’t take that kind of talk. He took two long strides around the table to Kevin and kicked his chair so it was facing him and not the table. He stepped between Kevin’s legs and as Kevin raised his hands to cover his face, Andrew grabbed his wrists and pulled them down. “Do _you_ think, for one second, that I would let anything happen to you?”

He couldn’t even fathom. Yes, Kevin was a pain in the ass. Yes, he loved to give Kevin shit. But, facts were facts. And the fact of the matter was, Kevin was Andrew’s family. Pseudo uncle, aunt, and cousin - Wymack, Abby, and Kevin were all part of the circle of people Andrew cared about most. How the _fuck_ could he think Andrew would do _anything_ to put him in danger?

Kevin looked up at him. The remnants of the **2** tattoo, little bits the laser couldn’t completely remove, stood out against Kevin’s normally warm skin. “You can’t protect me if they try to come after me, Andrew. You can’t save anyone, if that happens... Not when they’ve made up their minds. That includes yourself. You’re insan-”

“Babe?” Andrew quickly lifted his head to the bedroom door behind Kevin and saw _Brianna_ standing under its arch. She wore one of Kevin’s old shirts, which went down to her knees, and her corkscrew curls were smushed flat against one side. She rubbed at pale green eyes and squinted at Andrew. Her light brown skin darkened in the cheeks just a bit when she noticed how he was standing between Kevin’s knees.

“Oh - Hey, Andrew. Sorry, I heard you guys talking...”

“No, Bri. It’s fine. We’re just talking and Andrew’s being an asshole as usual. He’ll be leaving soon, go back to sleep.”

She spared one more glance for Andrew who gave her a tight nod, before turning. “Okay... Love you,” she called over her shoulder.

“I love you too.” Kevin loosed a breath when she turned away and rubbed his palms on his flannel pants.

Andrew didn’t move from his place. Instead, he just raised a brow as he looked down at him. “I liked Marcus better, you know. He didn’t walk around half naked in your clothes.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and looked like he debated smiling at the incredulity of Andrew _fucking_ Minyard. Deciding against it, he sighed and said, “You just didn’t see him do it. Anyway, you liked Marcus better because you two spent an hour talking about ‘ _the genius that is Africa by Toto’._ Unfortunately, that doesn’t make someone a good partner.”

Andrew snorted. “Says you.” He then nudged Kevin’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Don’t change the fucking subject.”

“There is no subject. I’m not talking to you about this. Yes, I went to school for a short time with Nathaniel. From what I remember, he was good enough at five to play with the older kids. That’s all I’m telling you.” Kevin went to stand, but Andrew kept him in his seat with a hand to his chest.

“No.” Andrew shook his head. “You don’t get to do that.” He leaned forward and moved his hand from Kevin’s chest to the back of his neck. With a tightening grip, Andrew lowered his voice seriously, “Nothing will happen to you-”

“You don’t know that!” Kevin all of a sudden yelled, emotion bursting from his eyes right in Andrew’s face. “You don’t fucking _know_ that! And you _can’t_ fucking know that, Andrew!” His chest was rising and falling quickly. Andrew tightened his grip harder and grit his teeth.

_Why was this so fucking hard?!_

Kevin shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as he raised his hands back to his face and pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes. His face was screwing up and Andrew rolled his own neck.

“Look at me, Kevin.” When he didn’t, Andrew raised his voice a hair, there was more force behind his words. “Look at me!”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

When Kevin dropped his hands and lifted his eyes, there was a line of silver trying its hardest not to break and trail down his cheeks.

Andrew didn’t relent.

He stared hard into bright green and with all the authority and conviction he could muster, he said, “I will _never_ let anything happen to you. I’m not going to put this on air - are you listening?!” That silver was growing and wavering and threatening to overflow. “I’m not going to put this _anywhere_ . But I _need to know, Kevin_ . If what you’re saying is true and I’m walking into something big, I _need to know_ . To keep _you_ and myself safe.”

There was a small break. With quick blinks, Andrew knew Kevin was biting into his tongue. But, he saw it the moment it happened - the moment Kevin’s resolve broke. It reflected bright and honest in his eyes and Andrew could see the _trust_ staring back at him.

Kevin took a deep, steadying breath and nodded as he whispered, “Fine...”

With a firm nod of his own, Andrew let go of Kevin’s neck, backed up, and dragged a chair forward to sit in front of Kevin, knee to knee. He leaned forward, elbows at his thighs, and waited.

It took a few moments and he let Kevin have them with slow blinks and deep breaths. When Kevin was ready enough, he began.

“The Moriyamas are Yakuza... Japanese - you know.” He shook his head and looked to be battle with something for a split second before he moved on. “The exy... the productions company? It’s all just a front. Nathan was Kengo’s right-hand man; his assassin on the east coast. Nathaniel was sent to Raven Academy so the Moriyamas could keep an eye on him - see if he was a worthy investment.”

_What the fuck?_

“Investment? What the fuck does that mean?” Bee was burning behind his ear. He raised a finger to press against her wings so he could hear before the buzzing took control - because every suspicion he’d had up until now was being confirmed by the man that had been next to him this entire time.

_For years._

“It means they would have... kept him.” ‘ _Like me’_ was silent. “Groomed him for exy and taken his earnings for themselves. He would’ve been a commodity. Like Jean... Jean’s parents owed the Moriyamas a debt. They paid it with their eldest son.”

Andrew wanted to puke.

“But Mary left with him before that could happen?” Andrew asked.

_She knew then. She had to have known what Nathan had in mind. Why else would she leave?_

“Yes,” Kevin nodded. His eyes wavered between both of Andrews, to his hands, around the room, then back at Andrew. “She took Nathaniel and she ran before any kind of agreement could be reached. Or at least, I assume that’s why she did it, but I have no idea. That’s all I know. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since then and I probably wouldn’t recognize him if I saw him today.”

“The Moriyamas never mentioned him? Never mentioned them running? Or being owed a debt for him?” Andrew sat up straight in his chair and watched Kevin carefully, but Kevin was already shaking his head.

 _Shit_.

“I wasn’t privy to their inner workings, Andrew. Everything I know, I got second hand from Riko and even then... You know Riko. Who knows if he’s lying...” Kevin pressed his lips together and looked down at his pants. There was a string from the side seam and he pulled at it. “As far as I know,” he sighed, dropping it and lifting his head once more, “They weren’t that bothered. They kept using Nathan, I think just giving him bigger and bigger jobs to make up for it.”

_To make up for a failed investment. A fucking child -_

Kevin was quiet for a moment. “That’s all I know, Andrew. That’s all I know and that’s all I’m saying and I never want to discuss this again. I try really hard to not even think about it.”

_Alright._

Andrew just nodded and stood. Kevin stood, too, but didn’t move from his spot. He was a good foot and change taller than him, so Andrew had to tilt his head back to see him properly.

“What are you going to do with this information...?” Kevin asked. “Who are you going to tell?”

Andrew felt a pang of sorrow for him. He’d been stuck in the circle of mental abuse for so fucking long. And now, here he was, living a good life - the best life he _can_ live, really. With his family and his girlfriend and his podcast and his _friends_ . And yet, he still had to worry about _this_... Still had to relive his trauma every time the Moriyamas were mentioned anywhere.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Andrew said quietly. “I told you that. Now, I know the story; now, things make more sense. I’m going to keep looking for Nathaniel, but I won’t involve the Moriyamas. I don’t _need_ them to find him - as long as I concentrate on that, it’ll be fine.”

_Right?_

“And if it’s not?” Kevin looked to Andrew’s face and shook his head slightly. “If they come after you? What about our family, Andrew? Or... or me?”

_Our._

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

“Then I’ll stop.” The level of conviction in his voice felt hard and real and true. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you _or_ them over this. Do you understand? I will never let anything happen to you if I can help it. Do you trust me?”

Kevin stared at him for a second that felt like forever. Eventually, he nodded and sighed. The tension in his shoulders didn’t leave, but they did lower as he sat back in his chair. Andrew watched him, making sure nothing major was lingering beneath his surface, before he nodded too.

“Good.” It was just a murmur. “I have to go get King. I’ll see you at Bee’s for dinner tomorrow night.” He glanced over Kevin’s shoulder towards the bedroom doorway. “Don’t bring Brianna. King doesn’t like her.”

That wasn’t true but.

Whatever.

Kevin simply nodded again anyway and stayed where he was while Andrew left the apartment.

-

One week later, Andrew found himself on yet another airplane with Renee - this time, flying to Seattle _fucking_ Washington.

He’d spent the past week regrouping and trying to get his head straight. Most days he felt like he was stuck under water. King helped, but when it was dark and it felt like light was nowhere in sight, he facetimed with Bella. Now, however, he was off again, all the way across the country to follow their timeline to wherever this may lead them next. There was something daunting about that - daunting about going to the place where the line goes silent and the questions really start rising.

In the back of his mind, Kevin’s news lingered. None of it was really a surprise, but it did add an extra element. It was something that Andrew would have to consider with every move he made. Like navigating a minefield. He was never one to tread lightly on any subject he breached, but this was different... somehow. Because Kevin was right. There was real danger involved here. And perhaps, he hadn’t been the most careful.

Perhaps.

At least now, he knew he’d been right. Without a doubt, the Moriyamas were responsible for his firing. They put out a piece about Nathan Wesninski, showering him in a positive light in order to move the public’s attention away from anything that might implicate them. It all. Made. Sense now.

Andrew didn’t lie to Kevin. He wouldn’t share the information. The really vindictive part of him was annoyed that he couldn’t - couldn’t let the world know who and what the Moriyamas really were. But, the bigger part acknowledged the danger that he was skirting and the repercussions of misstepping. No. No more impulsions, no more snap decisions, no more hard hitting shit. From here on out, it was the investigation and that’s _it._

~~_Perhaps, after this. I’d love to take the Moriyamas down._ ~~

_No._

Moving forward.

When they touched down in Seattle, he and Renee were due to meet with an ex police officer named Michael Thomas, Jr. He claimed he was on the case when the shootout between Nathan and what was suspected to be Mary and Nathaniel happened in 2004. Allegedly, he saw the woman and boy in the reports with his own eyes and apparently, when he pushed the case of his own eyewitness account, he was fired. Andrew figured he was a great place to start.

“Where do we go from Seattle?” Renee asked. “We know what we find here will mostly be what happened in 2004. If we don’t get any other leads, where do we go?”

Andrew turned his head on the headrest of his seat to face her. He contemplated her question for a moment, before saying, “I don’t know yet. The next sighting we have is 2017 in Wyoming, but I’m pretty sure that one’s bullshit. I don’t want to waste time on it if we can find something more concrete.”

Renee nodded, unlocking her phone and pulling up her notes. “And if we don’t find something more concrete?”

_Of course._

Andrew sighed, “Spit it out, Renee. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just trying to figure out the game plan here.”

Andrew leveled her with a knowing stare.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Honestly?”

He blinked slowly.

“I’m a little worried about you...” a frown tugged at the corners of her lips and her shoulders sunk half an inch. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere - in general _and_ to get to the bottom of this. But, I don’t want you running yourself into the ground in the process.”

Bee was buzzing in his ear and her wings were burning at his skin. Raising a hand, he rubbed absentmindedly at her mark behind his ear. “I’m not,” He replied and when Renee gave him a skeptical look, he dropped his hand and reiterated. “I’m really not. Bee has been on my ass about taking care of myself and I hate it when she worries. I’m not going to give her more of an excuse to do it.”

Renee took a moment to really assess him. Her eyes burning a hole in the side of his face was the same burn behind his ear and he hated ~~appreciated~~ it. Eventually, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” She turned her attention to her phone. “Now. Let’s go over this guy’s story one more time.”

-

Monday morning. Seattle was chilly compared to what Andrew was used to putting up with in South Carolina. It reminded him of Boston, just damper. He hated it.

He and Renee were out of the hotel they were staying in by 8AM and slipped into an Ihop near Seattle University where Andrew promptly ordered stuffed French toast with two orders of bacon and a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Renee said nothing. She knew better than to question him by now.

“So, we’re meeting this... Michael Thomas, Jr. at a cafe on campus called Café Presse,” Renee said, thumbing through her notes on her phone once more. “He works at the university as a security guard.”

“Café Presse?” Andrew asked, looking down at his half-eaten food. “Did you pin down the time?”

“12:30. That’s when he has his lunch break.”

“Oh, good.” Andrew nodded, taking another heaping bite and once it was halfway down, he continued, “I have plenty of time to digest.”

Renee laughed, “You have to be nice to him, you know.”

Andrew waved his fork in her direction. “What exactly are you implying, Walker?”

She raised her bleached brows, “I’m implying that you hate authority - cops in particular. If we want all the details exactly as he remembers them, you have to be cordial and not piss him off.”

Andrew hummed in response and took another bite.

-

12:30 eventually rolled around and Andrew found himself seated with Renee in what turned out to be a French café, once again.

“It’s called Café Presse. What did you expect?”

“A burger,” Andrew mumbled gloomily. “I hate this guy already... Strike one, Renee.”

She rolled her eyes, something that was becoming more and more common on her usually sweet face. Nonetheless, she sat up smiled as she waved at someone behind Andrew’s head. When he turned to look, a tall man, maybe in his mid-40’s, was headed towards their table. He wore a campus security uniform and had thinning brown hair with a five o’clock shadow at noon.

Renee stood to greet him. “Mr. Thomas?” She asked and when he nodded in the affirmative, “I’m Renee Walker - the one you’ve been emailing. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Michael Thomas, but please, call me Mike.” His smile was wide, tired, and crinkly. Andrew supposed it was supposed to be a nice or comforting smile. He hated it. “It’s nice to finally meet you, too. I’m glad you decided to come out here. I’ve been trying to tell people this for so long and no one will listen.” He turned to Andrew then, who was still seated. “Mr. Minyard, it’s nice to meet you, too. I appreciate what you’re trying to do with the podcast.” He held out a hand which Andrew stared at until Renee cleared her throat in a very ‘ _be nice’_ manner.

Sucking on his teeth, Andrew cracked his pinky and nodded his head, rather than shaking the man’s hand. That would have to be enough and it seemed as though it was as Mike nodded back and sat down.

As if on cue, a waiter appeared to take their orders. Renee made small talk like small talk wasn’t the worst thing in the world, until their food arrived. Andrew didn’t want to start the interview until they’d all at least had a bit of something in their stomach. As he ate, he couldn’t help but think that Renee was, of course, right. He was naturally distrustful of cops and eating gave him a chance to get a feel for this guy before the interview even started.

He appeared fine, Andrew supposed - unassuming, which Andrew ~~admittedly~~ liked. However, he had a very distinct _cop_ air about him. Something about the way he spoke, like he was in charge of the conversation even when he very clearly was not.

Andrew checked his emails while he waited for the waiter to clear their places and saw a recent email with the subject line ‘ _Nathaniel Sighting two mths ago’._ He sighed and put his phone away. It was nothing new. The amount of leads that either didn’t make sense with the timeline or were obviously bullshit, was fucking ridiculous and he was tired of reading them, to be completely frank. They would have to wait until he was in a better headspace. For now, he had to save room for all the animosity he could muster for Mr. Mike.

“Andrew?” Renee asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are you ready?”

Taking a last long sip of his hot chocolate, he nodded and pulled his bag towards him. Directing his attention towards Mike, he asked, “Okay if we record?”

Mike nodded and Andrew pulled out his recorder, along with his moleskine. He clicked his favorite purple pen, then pushed the button.

**[ Record On ]**

“Name?”

“Michael Thomas, Jr. But Mike, since we’re friends.”

_Ugh._

Mike smiled at his own joke and Andrew stared at him blankly until he put that smile away where it belonged.

“Tell us your story,” he began. “You were a police officer and on the scene when Nathan was arrested, correct? Walk us through it.”

Renee had her phone out, as per usual. Her notes stared up at her as she tapped away with quick thumbs.

Mike sat back in his chair and went contemplative before replying, “I was young. In my twenties back in 2004. I didn’t understand how the system could be.”

_Yeah well, welcome._

“Meaning what?” Andrew asked. “Just start from the beginning when you were called on the scene.”

Mike nodded. “Right, right. I was in the Rainier Beach area on June 12, 2004 and got the call that there was a reported shooting taking place nearby. It wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary - rough neighborhood and all. I’d been called out there plenty of times before.”

“What did you do when you got there?” Andrew asked.

“A car fleeing the scene with a woman in the drivers seat and Nathan Wesninski shooting at the car as it drove away.”

_Buzz -_

Andrew looked up from where he was jotting down his own notes. “Only a woman?”

Mike nodded. “Only a woman. I can’t say if it was Mary Wesninski or not, but I didn’t see a kid with her.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head as his eyes squinted. “Doesn’t mean much, of course. If it was my kid and someone was shooting at us, I’d have them down on the floor.”

_That makes sense._

Andrew nodded. Nathaniel would’ve been ten, but he was small for his age. He could’ve easily fit in the foot space of the front and back of the car if needed. “Could you tell what the woman looked like?”

Mike pressed his lips together for a short moment, then sighed. “No, not really. She was thin, brownish hair maybe? I couldn’t reliably identify her. But, there were witnesses who could.” He looked at Andrew with his brows raised conspiratorially.

_First thing’s first._

“What happened with Nathan?”

Mike tapped his hand on the table idly. “I drove up on the scene and a few other officers had gotten there as well. We were able to surround him and he surrendered.”

“Just like that?” Renee asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “If you want to call it that. I mean. There wasn’t exactly anywhere he could go so... yeah. Laughed, in fact, when he saw he was surrounded. Dropped his gun, hands behind his head, and fucking laughed. Creepiest shit I’ve ever seen.”

‘Yeah, that’s for sure,” Andrew mumbled as he took a sip of his water, then moved on. “So, can you tell me why the charge against Nathan was illegal firearms? There were obviously multiple witnesses to say he was shooting at someone. Why wasn’t he charged with something related to that?”

“Ah...” Mike said, picking up the wrapper to his straw and tearing it into tiny pieces. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” He rolled up the spare pieces between forefinger and thumb, “After we took Wesninski to the station, things started to get weird.”

_Buzz_

“Weird how?” Renee leaned forward in her seat, still typing away at her phone.

Mike dropped the paper and looked between the two of them seriously. “We all have to write reports when we’ve done a scene. Mine had all the details in it. The woman driving away, Wesninski shooting at the car, the laugher - all of it. I filed it away with all my other paperwork to be reviewed and the next day, I got a call saying there was a problem with it and I needed to come in asap to resubmit it.”

“Did you?” Andrew asked.

“I did.” Mike nodded. “I went in and asked what the problem was. Because to the best of my knowledge at the time, I gave everything I could. A detailed, firsthand account of what happened at the scene - just as we’d been told to do but...” He shook his head. “There were two feds there waiting for me when I arrived,” his voice lowered. “Wanted me to completely change my statement.”

“To say what?”

“That we came upon Wesninski when someone called in a suspicious vehicle.” Mike’s tone was hardening and he pressed his palms flat against the table. “That when we got to the scene and searched his car, we found illegal firearms. That we arrested him on that charge _alone_. Any mention of the other car and the woman driving it were completely fucking scrapped.”

Andrew remembered watching those reports on the news. Nathan’s arrest, his initial indictment and eventual sentencing. What Mike was telling him now wasn’t anything he hadn’t already assumed to an _extent_ . However, the _explicit_ FBI involvement in covering this up? That was new.

Bee buzzed louder as the pieces started falling together in his head.

The Moriyamas were trying to spare their right hand man, but then - what exactly did the FBI have in this? What was their stake? Was it actually to finally crack down on the infamous Butcher? Or, was it something else...

“If that’s the case and the feds were trying to cover up what really happened, then why charge him with anything at all? Why not get rid of the guns and the case altogether?” It was like a puzzle piece that wouldn’t fit. Andrew was trying to connect dots that seemingly didn’t want to connect. Why would the Feds cover this up? Did they just want their guy, or did they want something else for _someone_ else?

Mike leaned forward then, arms on the table and hands moving to clasp together. “That’s the real question. In my opinion, there were too many witnesses. I wasn’t able to get a good view of the woman, but there were civilians in the area who were - multiple people even, who saw Nathan shooting and camera crews were on the scene before we could finish clearing it.” Mike shook his head, brows furrowed so deeply they almost touched. “There’s no way they could get away with not charging him with _something_. You wanna know what I think?”

When Andrew just stared at him, waiting for him to continue, Mike looked to Renee where she nodded him on.

“I think the feds were there to get rid of the attempted murder charge. I think they were there to make sure no one knew the identity of the woman. I’m not sure they could’ve stopped the snowball that happened once one of the guns he had was matched to a string of other shootings. Not without being completely obvious about it. It was just a short skip to a search warrant for his home and from there, prison for the foreseeable future.”

“So if the feds were followed all these connections, again, why the cover up?” Andrew still wasn’t getting it. But his mind was moving faster than his lips and he realized -

“Because they put all their energy, I think, in getting to Seattle. Once the search warrant was passed, Maryland state was on top of it too quickly for proper information, maybe, to reach and shut shit down. Too many people, too many states were involved. Finding out many of the disappearances of high business officials around the country may have connections to the Butcher? They couldn’t cover that up.”

“But a missing mother and son, they could.”

Mike took a sip of his coffee and from beside him, Renee sighed out of her nose.

Andrew tapped his pen against his marked up page. “I want to see the site,” he said after a few moments pause. “I want to see where it happened.” He looked to Mike, eyes daring him to disagree.

He only nodded. “I can take you this evening. I get off at 5:00. Rainier Beach isn’t far, so we can meet here and I’ll show you the way.”

“Perfect,” said Renee, starting to stand. Andrew followed her lead, shutting his moleskine with a snap and turning off the recorder.

**[ Record Off ]**

He shoved both into his bag and made their way to the doors. His mind was still running, racing, trying to catch up and connect everything Mike had said as Bee started to calm but his fingers started to shake for a cigarette. He cracked his pinky again.

He was pulling his pack out from his back pocket as Mike asked Renee, “You have my number?” She nodded her head and he turned his attention to Andrew. “Again, it was nice to meet you. I hope I can help. There’s more to the story that I think you’ll be interested in.”

 _I fucking hope so_.

Andrew just stared. “We’ll see, Officer Mike. You can fill us in at the site.”

“I’m not an officer anymore. You can just call me Mike.”

Andrew shook out a cig, then with the unlit stick he gestured to Renee to follow him to the car. Putting the filter in his mouth, he said around it in a call over his shoulder, “Once a pig, always a pig, Officer Mike.”

When the lighter ignited and the end lit, the first drag did nothing to help.

-

A few hours, three cigarettes, and two cups of coffee later, Andrew and Renee were standing on the outskirts of Rainier Beach Playfield in the Rainier Branch neighborhood. It was a park, small with metal playground equipment and a weathered basketball court. There were open fields, maybe baseball? But the paint was nearly gone and houses surrounded the perimeter of the park. Perhaps, at a time, maybe this place was nice. But the area smelled like the sea and rust, and Andrew’s head couldn’t help but confuse it with the salt of sweat and metallic tang of blood.

Digging his recorder out of his bag, he turned it on.

**[ Record On ]**

“Here?” Andrew asked quietly, trying to hide the slight disbelief. “Nathan opened fire _here_ ?” All his research, all the articles and news clips and files he’d sorted through and the fact that Nathan opened fire on a fucking _playground_ never hit him.

Officer Mike, now in regular clothes, shrugged his shoulders and looked around. “Like I said, he was insane. I don’t know if he’d been trying to find them for a while or what. But, we had multiple witnesses who saw it. Again, their accounts never made it into official reports. But, I do know that some said they saw a woman with a boy who could’ve been anywhere from 8-10 years old, right here. He was,” Mike pointed to an old swing set, “swinging on the swings, not playing with the other kids. Said that the woman snatched him up when the car Nathan was in drove by and tried to get away before he saw them. Unfortunately, he was already shooting. _Fortunately_ , with all the flying bullets, no one else got hurt.”

 _No one_ **_else_ ** **.**

Andrew crossed his arms and covered his mouth with a hand. He tried to picture it - tried to picture a little Nathaniel enjoying his time in the park, swinging when shots started firing. Nathaniel must have been terrified- “Show me.” He turned towards Mike. “Where was Nathan? Where was the other car?”

 _Officer_ Mike obliged. He walked them through it. Where each car was, what he saw with his own eyes, where they had Nathan lying facedown on the pavement before cuffing him and shoving him into a cruiser.

They made their way to a nearby picnic table and sat. It too was metal, uncomfortable, nothing that one would think was meant for children or parents with their kids. The rust left a brown residue on his hands that he tried to ignore as he put a little too much effort in focusing on the task; rather than the smell, feel, and what connections his brain could make between oxidized metal and oxidized blood.

_Buzz_

“Tell me the rest,” Andrew forced out. “You said there was more to the story?”

Mike studied him for a moment, then looked between him and Renee before nodding. “Well, as you know, I’m no longer an officer. I changed my report when they asked me to. I was young with a wife and I didn’t want to make waves. I didn’t want to get into trouble - but the entire thing ate at me. It nagged me and kept me up all hours of the night for weeks. This guy, this psychopath,  was shooting at a woman and kid, in a park filled with _children_ , and we were trying to cover that up?” Mike shrugged his shoulders, but something in his face darkened. “So, I pushed,” his tone had a hint of defeat. “I went to my superior officer and he basically told me to leave it. Then, I went to _his_ superior officer and I was told to pack my shit and get out.”

“So, someone knew something and didn’t like you snooping around?” Andrew wiped his hands on his pants, then took off his glasses to clean them on the edge of his shirt. This sounded _familiar_.

“Exactly. So, I was fired and cut off from the investigation all together.” He turned his palms up and pressed his lips together. When they relaxed, he shook his head, “But I didn’t stop looking and I didn’t stop asking questions. I have family in law enforcement - friends. My father was a police officer, so I knew a lot of the guys on the force. They gave me some stuff but the real info came from a cousin I have in Oregon, in a small town called Brookings. He’s still an officer there and in 2010, there was a shooting that sounded a lot like what happened here.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Andrew’s shoulder twitched to press against the tattoo behind his ear, but he took a steadying breath to block the impulse. His pulse was speeding and he leaned forward.

“How so? Nathan was in prison in 2010,” Renee added.

“No, it wasn’t Wesninski.” Mike started.

_2010, 2010, 2010, 2010..._

“But, it was a woman and a boy, older. 16 or 17 years old-”

_Buzz_

“-Brookings is small and the crime rate is higher than average, but it’s usually property crimes, theft, that sort of thing. This? This was a shooting between a woman and a boy, and another woman. They all left the scene before cops could get there, but witnesses say the woman and boy were both of a slight build with brown hair. The woman shooting was taller, with red hair.”

His body was thrumming. _2010, 2010, 2010..._ Nathaniel would’ve been 16 years old. Was it really them?

_2010, 2010..._

“Nathan was convicted in 2010,” he heard himself finally say. “One of his supporters maybe... Someone part of his circle.” He looked to Renee and found her frowning, but nodding as she put that together in her head too. When he turned his attention back to Mike, his heart rate spiked and he had a burning question at the tip of his tongue. “And they got away? They all just got in their cars and got away unscathed?”

Mike’s eyes bounced between Andrew and Renee. When he replied, Andrew’s stomach dropped. “Apparently, one of them was shot. Mary or Nathaniel...assuming it was them.”

Andrew sat back on the bench. Officer Mike sure seemed unconcerned about this.

“One of them?” He heard himself ask. “Which one? No one saw them? How is that possible?”

_What the fuck does this mean?_

“Someone said they saw the two of them hunched over and thought there was blood, but there was no blood left at the scene. That’s it. They both got in the back, but one must’ve climbed behind the wheel. The other woman had already driven off after a witness came out yelling with his own gun. My guess is they’d already drawn too much attention and she, whoever she is, assumed she’d gotten at least one of them.”

_No no no_

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Andrew stood from the bench and paced. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. Bee was burning and he scratched absentmindedly at his collar as he shook his head and tried to think.

_What if they were both shot? What if they were both dead?_

He needed more information - needed to see, needed to know.

“I want to go,” he said, stopping short. “We need to go to Brookings. Talk to Officer Mike’s cousin-”

“It’s just Mike-”

“Shhhhh,” Andrew hushed him, resuming his pacing. “We’re having a conversation here, Officer Mike.”

Renee looked between them and sighed. “How far is Brookings from here?” She asked.

Mike spared a glance towards Andrew, as if making sure it was okay for him to speak, then said, “It’s about an eight hour drive. There’s an airport nearby in California, but it’s small and I doubt you’d be able to get a flight very soon.”

Andrew stopped pacing. “Then we drive.” He pointed to Mike, “You’re coming with us. You’ll get us a meeting with your cousin, where we can read the reports ourselves.”

Officer Mike stood, “I can’t just call out of work. I could lose my job.”

Andrew shrugged, “Tell them you’re sick. I don’t care. You said you wanted to help?” He raised his brows.

“Of course I do! I lost my job over this, I want justice for them just as much as you do.”

_Doubt it._

“Then make it happen. Text Renee your address and we’ll pick you up at 8AM. Be ready.”

**[ Record Off ]**

-

Officer Mike was ready. They picked him up outside of his apartment and Renee handed him a cup of coffee and a bagel from the bag they’d picked up on their way there.

Andrew sat behind the wheel of their rental and he was itching to go. He’d been up for the majority of the night, trying his hardest to not _think_ and make assumptions on everything Mike had told them the day before. His midnight mental ramblings went from which one of them was shot, to who the fuck the other woman was. He’d drawn several theories ranging from the woman being an associate of Nathan’s, to a connection to the Moriyamas. It couldn’t just be some random, unless the pair had kicked up shit between 2004-2010... Which was entirely possible. But that didn’t feel _right_.

What _did_ feel right, was the fact that Nathaniel would have been 16. That was the oldest sighting they were able to partly confirm as legit, with Nathaniel almost an adult. Something about that was... Andrew didn’t know. What he did know, is that he needed to know what happened with that shooting. Which one got hit?

The drive to Oregon took them down I-5, along the coast of Washington and into Oregon. There were so many trees.

_So many places to hide._

It seemed like every hour or so, there was a new sign for some national forest or other.

They stopped when they got to Portland to grab food and stretch their legs. Renee offered to drive, but Andrew refused. His mind was still working, reeling, running a mile a minute and driving helped him not only center his mind, but keep himself calm - on track.

Once they were back in the car, Andrew put on the (oddly accurate and well curated) playlist Seth had made specifically for him. He didn’t know how Seth had done it, but he managed to capture every song Andrew loved, and a few new ones he didn’t know. First on the list was Africa by Toto, and Andrew took it upon himself to reply it five times, before Officer Mike said something.

“Why are we listening to this song on repeat? It’s so overrated. Don’t you have anything else? Maybe some Journey?”

Andrew heard Renee let out a small gasp, before he slammed on the breaks and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. He wasn’t in the mood for Officer-Smart-Fuck right now, so with one hand on Renee’s headrest, he twisted around to look into the backseat.

“Listen, Officer Mike-”

“It’s just Mi-“

“ _LISTEN_ , Officer Mike. You can listen to the overplayed and hyped-up trash heap that is Journey on your own time, do you understand? I’m driving. I control the music. And if I _ever_ hear you disparage the sacred name of Toto again, I don’t care what information you have, I’m putting you out of this fucking car.”

Officer Mike’s eyes narrowed and Andrew could see the cop in him then. He wanted to argue - to bring Andrew to heel. But, Andrew held his gaze until Officer Mike looked out the window instead. Satisfied, Andrew pulled the car back on the road and continued their **_NOT_ ** journey.

-

As it turned out, Officer Mike’s cousin didn’t live in Brookings. Instead, he lived about 45 minutes north, in a small coastal town called Gold Beach. It was tiny - _tiny, tiny_. There was absolutely nothing and Andrew didn’t understand. It was nice, sure, in that way small town america was, but -

They arrived at a nice, two story house at around 5PM and were greeted at the door by a man who bore a remarkable resemblance to Mike Thomas. His name was John Thomas and Andrew had to fight hard not to roll his eyes as introductions were made. John waved them inside and told everyone to make themselves comfortable.

The inside was as nice as the outside in that picturesque way one would expect of an oceanside, small town home, and Andrew briefly thought it was nicer than he thought a police officer could afford. He wondered what his wife did as he looked around.

The home backed up to the beach and while it was a house that screamed ‘outdoors’, it wasn’t in the way that Allison’s beach house in the Keys had. The wood floors were dark and shining, and the ceiling was paneled wood as well. The living room had floor to ceiling windows that looked out on greenery and forest, with a peek of the ocean in the background. Dark slate floors covered where hardwood wasn’t, and there was a wood burning fireplace tucked into a corner of the room. There was a healthy bit of disorder that comes with a family and Andrew deduced he must have one or two children.

Nodding to himself, he was about to jump right into things when he heard the unmistakable sound of children shrieking coming around the corner.

“MIKE! MIIIIIKKKE!” Two children, around 4 and 6 years old, came barreling around the corner and slammed into Mike’s legs. He bent down to hug them both and they pulled away to show him something or other in another part of the house.

_I miss Bella._

“Sorry about that,” John said. “We haven’t seen Mike in a while, but the kids love him. They’re excited he’s here.”

“It’s fine,” Andrew said. “It’s you we need to talk to anyway.”

John nodded. “Let me go ahead and get you what I have then.”

Sounds of children laughing and Mike making _silly_ voices came from the other room. If Andrew closed his eyes, he could make-believe things weren’t so fucked up - he could remember that there was still happiness, still children that were well loved and content and _safe_.

_Bella._

He inhaled deeply when John came back a few moments later with a stack of files in his hand. “This is everything on the shooting in Brookings,” he looked down at it and then back up to Andrew. “I’m not supposed to have this here. In fact, I’m not supposed to be talking to you or anyone about this. But, I believe Mike when he says something else is at play here, and I believe this is Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski.”

“Do you mind if we record our conversation?” Andrew asked. “This doesn’t have to be aired on the podcast, if you want to remain anonymous. I understand your job could be put in jeopardy.”

John nodded and glanced towards where his kids disappeared with Mike. “Yeah, I’d like to remain anonymous. I want to help since I think it’s a shame that no one looked into it further but,” his eyes trailed to the wall behind Andrew’s head. Andrew glanced over his shoulder to see a hanging photo of a family of four. “But, I’m a widower and I can't afford to lose my job with two kids.”

“Oh...” Renee said, putting a hand to her heart. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must have been devastating...”

“It was,” John replied, backing up into an armchair and sitting heavily into it. “But, everyone has to move on with life when hard stuff happens. You can stay in one place, never moving, or push on like they’d want you to.” He tore his eyes away from the frame, then smiled at both of them sadly. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly lower. “Stassi died after a two year battle with cancer, not long after Madison, my four year old, was born. She doesn’t even really remember her. But, that’s life. You have to take the good with the bad and I’d marry Stassi a thousand times with the same ending if it meant sharing a life and those two kids with her.”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

Andrew cleared his throat. “Right. Well. Can you tell us about what you have?”

_Nice, Andrew._

“Yeah - yes. I’m sorry, I got sidetracked. Here,” he held out the stack of files and Andrew took them on his way to the couch. He spared Renee a glance as she looked to all the pictures stationed around the living room, before sitting beside him. He placed the files on his lap as he got out his recorder, then hit the button and set it on the table.

**[ Recorder On ]**

“Like you said, you wish to stay anonymous. So, your voice will be altered drastically and any personal information you give, background noise, will be redacted to keep your anonymity safe.”

John nodded gratefully, the wrinkles lining his eyes deepening as he gave Andrew a small smile.

Andrew ignored it and motioned for him to begin.  

“Right. So, what you’ll find there are the police reports and witness statements from the shooting. Brookings is a small town. I grew up there. It’s rough around the edges, but it’s not so bad.”

“If it’s not so bad,” Andrew asked. “Why did you decide to move and commute 45 minutes to Brookings every day?”

John shrugged. “Once Stassi and I got married, we just wanted something a little more open, a little safer maybe, for the kids. So, we moved here. Gold Coast is smaller than Brookings, but the community is amazing. This house belonged to her grandparents before they passed away, so it was just here waiting for us.”

“Right,” Andrew nodded, “ Then, while I’m looking through this,” Andrew said, for the recorders benefit, “Why don’t you tell me about the shooting? Were you on the scene?”

Andrew set the recorder onto the coffee table next to a barbie doll with hair sticking every-which way and only one shoe on. He _did not_ smile at it, thinking about Bella, before he flipped open the folder.

“I was, but there was nothing to see by the time we pulled up. We chased one of the cars for a while, but lost it in the traffic going north on the 101. The other car was just gone - the one with the woman and the boy.”

“Do you have a description of the car?” Andrew asked, shuffling through the papers.

“Yeah, uh-” John leaned forward to where Andrew was rifling through papers, ” there’s one in there.” He pulled out the folder beneath the one Andrew was currently working on and placed it on top. “Here. It was described as an older model Volvo, around 2000 or so, S70 model. It was navy blue with Oregon tags, but no one was able to get a tag number.”

Andrew looked at the paper John handed to him and the pictures of a comp car that matched the description.

“Walk me through that day.” Andrew’s voice was quiet. He didn’t realize he was nearly whispering until Renee shifted beside him and he cleared his throat. “What call did you get? What did you see when you got there?”

John leaned back in his chair again and crossed his legs. “I received a call that there was a shooting in progress on Chetco Ave, right in the parking lot of Goldilocks Antiques. It was around 7PM, so the store was already closed, thankfully. There was no one else in the parking lot, but Chetco Ave is a pretty busy street, so there was still activity on the road.”

Andrew went quiet while looking through the information. He stopped at a witness statement. “So, this…Shirley Johnson. She was across the street?”

“Yeah, Shirley works over at Forecastle Books. She was leaving and locking up the front when she heard gunshots. Looked out the window and saw two women shooting at each other and a boy crouching in front of the car. Said the boy ran to one of the women and it looked like either he or she were shot. She couldn’t tell which - said they both screamed and basically fell into the car.” John straightened as if he could see the witness statement Andrew was currently skimming over. He continued, “Couldn’t tell who was in the drivers. She called the cops right away and as soon as they heard sirens, both cars bolted. We were only able to follow the black one, the one the lady with the red hair was in. We lost the other right away.”

_Of fucking course._

Andrew ground his teeth together in frustration and felt his blood pressure spike. With a deep breath, he cracked his pinky and glanced up at John, “But there was no blood? No way you could tell which was shot?”

John shook his head. “No.” He opened his hands palm up, as if in offering, “But, I followed the case. We’re right on the California border, so we alerted all the surrounding towns in Oregon and California to keep an eye out. Of course, communicating across state lines is always a pain in the ass. But I followed up. A car matching this description was found burned up on a beach in Crescent City, California.”

_Burned._

Andrew’s head shot up to look at John.

_Burned._

_A car burned. Was anyone in the car?_

“Burned, how? Like it was in a wreck and caught fire?”

John shook his head. “No, like someone intentionally started a fire in the backseat, where it appeared there was a body.”

Andrew dropped all the folders. The papers fell to the ground with a smack and Renee put a hand to his arm.

**_Burned._ **

**_No. Like someone intentionally started a fire -_ **

**_Where it appears there was a_ **

**_Body_ **

**_Body_ **

**_Body_ **

**_Burned_ **

“Whose body?” Andrew may have said that, he didn’t know. There was a buzz in his ears and pounding at his head. His vision seemed to be acting up. His throat hurt. Maybe he was the one that said so hard his chest, his teeth hurt, “Whose. Body.”

John looked up at Andrew with something like concern on his face ~~or maybe not, Andrew didn’t know.~~ “I was just trying to find the report for you. Here -” He handed (or tried to) Andrew (Renee) a piece of paper. “We didn’t have anything to identify it with. The bones were gone - blood and hair burned up. Not even any clothes.  Someone had to have burned the car, then pulled the remains out.” He pointed towards the paper, sliding to sit at the edge of his seat as Renee looked over the paper for Andrew. “But you can see in the report here, the pattern of the burns on the seat indicate there was someone sitting there when the car caught fire.”

Andrew couldn’t breathe. He grabbed the paper from Renee’s hands to see it for himself, but his head was swimming. The beach outside had made its way into his lungs and he was drowning.

_At least one of them is dead._

Which one though? Which _fucking_ one was it? What did this even mean? Were they _both_ dead somewhere?!

**_No._ **

Andrew stood and Renee followed. “Andrew,” She said quietly. “Andrew, listen to me. One of them is still out there, okay?”

**_No no no no no_ **

His fingers ached, his ear burned, his head swam and all he wanted was _King, King, King_.

Andrew stopped, forced himself to, as he turned his head to look at her and somehow got out, “But which one? Who are we even looking for?”

Renee raised her brows. “It doesn’t matter. We keep. Looking.” Andrew just stared at her brown eyes and sweet face. He didn’t know how to make her understand.

“I want to go there. To Crescent City. I want to go to the beach and talk to someone about the car. Change of plans, we’ll drive there tonight-“

“There’s no point,” John interrupted, looking between the two warily. “It’s almost 6PM. Everything administrative will be closed. Wait until morning, and Mike can ride with you into Crescent City. I have to go to work in Brookings, but Crescent City is only a half hour drive from there.”

_No. I need to go now._

Andrew shook his head, but it was like Renee saw the argument before it even worked its way out of his mouth. She said quickly, “He’s right, Andrew. We’ve been driving all day. We’re both tired and hungry. Nothing is going to change between today and tomorrow. Let’s go find a hotel and crash, so we can leave first thing in the morning.”

 _I don’t_ **_want_ ** _to fucking_ **_wait_ **.

He wanted to drive to Crescent City immediately and get to work. He wanted to see the beach. He wanted pictures of the burned car. He wanted to _scream_.

But, when he looked back at Renee, there was exhaustion written between the cracks of concern settled on her face. She was tired - Renee who never complained, not once in the entire time they’d been on this path.

The roaring in his head, his blood, his ears, his veins, didn’t quiet - but something inside him did settle. Eventually, he murmured, “Fine.” Then sighed as he bent to turn the recorder off. “Let’s get some food and crash.”

**[ Record Off ]**

John stood, shaking his head, “No, no - you two are welcome to eat dinner and stay here. It’s June, there’s no way you’re going to find a hotel room. And even if you do, it’ll be an insane amount.” He motioned around, “We have plenty of room. The kids can stay with me and you two can have their rooms. Mike can take the pullout in my study because he’s family and it doesn’t matter if he’s uncomfortable.” John looked like he was trying to smile, eyes bouncing between the two and gauging whether or not it would be appropriate to do so with Andrew’s... outburst.

It was a tempting offer, only because exhaustion was settling into his own bones, but he attributed that to the adrenaline going away and sucking all of his energy with it. He looked to Renee one last time and just nodded. He didn’t want to drag her around anymore than was necessary. That’s not what friends do.

“Fine,” He agreed. “We’ll leave in the morning. Someone go get Officer Mike and tell him the news.”

-

Mike agreed to accompany them to Crescent City the next day. He had an in with the local PD there (since he’d been following this case so closely) so it worked out perfectly. ~~Or as perfect as this shit storm could get~~. They made plans over dinner, which turned out to be pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and Andrew was a little less annoyed about not leaving until the next morning.

Somehow, he ended up across the table from John’s two kids. Madison was 4 and Jax, 6. They were both dark haired and dark eyed and they stared at Andrew like he was a fascinating bug.

“Why you got so many earrings?” Madison asked. Jax’s mouth opened in a little **O** and he looked at his sister, scandalized.

“ _Maddie_ ,” he whispered. She looked at him with her tiny brow furrowed and Andrew couldn’t help a small smile.

“I have them because I like shiny things,” he told her.

“Like a niffler!” Jax said, pleased with himself.

Andrew laughed, and Renee gave him a little grin. “Yes, exactly like a niffler. I can’t help it.”

Much of the dinner conversation went on like that. _‘Did they hurt?’ ‘How many earrings do you have?’ ‘Do boogers get caught in your nose earring?’_

Andrew lay in the twin sized bed that night. The room was painted yellow with Dora stickers on the walls and he stared at them before he closed his eyes. He tried not to see burned out cars and charred corpses, bullet wounds and so much _blood_ \- but it was no use. It was all he could see, all he could wonder.

_Which one. Which one. Which one._

Eventually, Andrew gave up. He threw the blankets off himself and put his feet on the floor. As he was about to stand, the door opened and a small brown head appeared.

“Sowwy, Mister Andwew. I need to get my Pooh bear,” Madison said and welcoming herself in, she padded over the wooden floors with tiny bare feet, to get a small stuffed Winnie the Pooh from the table by her bed.

Andrew smiled at her and shook his head. “It’s your room.” He then asked, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

She hugged Pooh to her chest and her toes wiggled against the floorboards, “I had a bad dream. I don’t wanna wake Daddy. He’s tired lots.”

Andrew nodded at her seriously. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Madison gasped, eyes wide and shining in the dim hall light. “Yes!”

“I have nightmares sometimes, too.”

Her tiny brows furrowed and she tilted her head, “Really?” When Andrew nodded, she took a few steps closer and said, “Sometimes, I have nightmares ‘bout monsters. They come and take my mommy away.”

Andrew’s heart broke into a million tiny pieces. The breath left him and his lungs squeezed as he thought back to earlier that day - what John had said. Stassi Thomas probably loved her kids, cared for them, wanted them. Tilda Minyard had not wanted her kids, didn’t give a fuck about them, and she was still allowed to be out in the world - an abusive, drug addicted monster before her _accident._

But this woman? She was taken away from her loving family, and that is why Andrew didn’t believe in fate.

Pressing his lips together for a moment, he thought and then asked, “You know what helps me sometimes? Reading a book. When I was little like you, I would sneak a flashlight under my pillow and a book into the bed, and I would stay up all night and read if I was scared.”

She stood up on her toes and rocked back on her heels as she quickly looked to her little bookshelf on the far wall. “I _love_ books!” She then frowned as she looked back towards him. “I don’t read good yet...”

Andrew smiled - it felt easy for children’s sake. He thought of Bella and asked, “Would you like me to read you a book?”

Madison’s eyes grew wide once more and she ran for her shelf without saying another word. With Pooh held in one arm, she pulled out a book with the other and brought it to Andrew.

“These are good monsters.”

His stomach gave a lurch when he looked at the title - _‘Where the Wild Things Are’_. It was his favorite book as a kid. He dragged it from foster home to foster home, until some kid or other ripped it to pieces for reasons Andrew still didn’t really understand.

Madison climbed onto the bed and Andrew stood. He knew better than to be on a bed with a small child in a dark room. Memories threatened to crash against the wall he fortified every single day.

“Let’s go to the living room, okay?” he suggested. “That way, if your daddy wakes up to find you, you’ll be right there.”

Madison nodded and led the way. She sat on the big leather sofa Andrew and Renee had been on earlier and Andrew sat next to her. She curled into the back of the couch with her little knees pressed against his arm as he put the book in his lap and opened to the first page.

_‘The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind_

_and another’_

Once upon a time, Andrew used to pretend _he_ was Max - that _he_ was a wild thing once. Always _running, running, running_ to get away from foster parents and foster kids and foster homes. He would ride like the wind on his stolen bike to a filed in a park in Oakland, and roar his terrible roar, and gnash his terrible teeth in the middle of the tall, tall grass as loud as he could. It was like he was calling his monsters to him.

He used to pretend he could dream his way into being King of the Wild Things, just like Max.

His dream died like that book, in a thousand little pieces.

_‘Oh please don’t go_

_we’ll eat you up_

_we love you so -’_

When he was finished reading, Madison was already half asleep.

“Hey, you,” Andrew whispered quietly, nudging her with an elbow. She looked up at him and smiled sleepily. “Go on to bed now, okay? Dream about being a wild thing. That’s what I used to do.”

With a fist rubbing at her eye and the other clutched onto Pooh, she nodded her head and made her way back up to John’s room. Andrew watched her go and hugged the book to his chest - hoping the pressure could keep himself together.

He really, _really_ missed Bella.

-

Wednesday morning, Andrew was up at a ridiculous hour. After Madison went to sleep he didn’t drag himself back to the bed until he physically couldn’t keep him awake any longer. His sleep was light and short and eventually he got sick of trying to get anything deeper and instead, pulled himself from the sheets.

It worked out anyway, because Chicago was two hours ahead of where Andrew was - so he was able to facetime Bella before she left for school.

_‘Unkie Andwew! I got a haircut!’_

Andrew sat outside on the porch that overlooked the Oregon coast and gave Bella a gasp. “Bells! It looks so good!”

Her hair, once down her back in red curling waves, now brushed just below her shoulders. Katelyn (or Aaron) braided the sections that framed her face and pulled them back so she could see.

Bella giggled and Andrew’s heart sang. He was in such a bad headspace - he knew he was, and he was trying his fucking damnedest to keep it the fuck together. At least until he had more information.

_Which one?_

_‘You need haircut Unkie. You should cut like daddy since you twins.’_

“Hmmm, I don’t think so. Your Daddy looks like a mean librarian with his haircut.”

‘ _I heard that,_ ’ Andrew heard Aaron say in the background. ‘ _Bella likes my haircut, don’t you baby?’_

Bella nodded enthusiastically, looking off screen at Aaron. _‘Daddy looks handsome like Prince Eric.’_

Andrew laughed. “I’ll take your word for it Bells.” He heard the glass french door beside him open and Renee stuck her head out. He nodded and looked back at the screen to see Aaron’s hands help Bella put on her _pink_ backpack. “I have to go, but did you like the book I sent? ‘The Book With No Pictures’?”

_‘Yes! Daddy and Mommy have to say all the words and IT SO FUNNY!’_

_‘Yeah, thanks again for that,’_ Aaron mumbled.

“Anytime. FUA to the rescue.”

Once Andrew hung up with Bella, he made his way into the kitchen to hunt for coffee. He felt just a little bit lighter, like a pressure had been lifted from his chest. The weight was featherlight, but it was a relief nonetheless. When he entered the kitchen, he found Renee and Officer Mike already there and waiting for him.

“Hey,” Renee said, passing him a cup from a pot they’d already made. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like shit. Is there creamer?” Andrew opened the fridge and dug around until he found some French vanilla. Not mocha caramel, but it would have to do.

John came into the room a few minutes later, clad in pajama bottoms and a plain white shirt, and blinked at them all, as if wondering what they were doing there.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m not used to sleeping with the kids. I was up and down all night. I’ll make some breakfast.” He headed toward the fridge to start pulling out eggs and bacon.

Andrew glanced at Renee, then to John. “No, it’s fine. We need to get going soon.”

“No, we don’t,” Renee followed quickly, and Andrew looked towards her again with as much betrayal as his eyes could fucking muster. “It’s still super early and some breakfast sounds really lovely.”

_Traitor._

“Great! Just give me a few and I’ll whip something up. Kids should be up and running around as soon as they smell it cooking.”

They were.

Andrew ate breakfast quietly while making faces across the table at Madison and Jax. Mike and John chatted about family and Renee searched for hotels on Andrew’s phone to try and pin down some place to stay in Crescent City. John offered for them to come back and stay the night again, but Andrew wanted to be _there_ . He wanted to be in Crescent City - to soak in whatever info he possibly could and be able to leave in the middle of the night to search for... _whatever_ . ~~_Just in case_. ~~

Mike said he would drive down with them to help get in touch with his contact, but after that he had to be back at work. Andrew agreed to buy him a plane ticket out of Crescent City and back to Seattle for Thursday morning. Reynold’s black card could handle it.

They were finally on the road at around 10AM, but not before Andrew left two origami swans on the kitchen table - one with Madison written in purple pen and the other with Jax.

The drive to Crescent City was about an hour from Gold Coast and only a half hour from Brookings, where Nathaniel and Mary would’ve driven from.  

When Andrew saw the sign for California up ahead, Renee looked over at him and he finally realized why she made them stay for breakfast. It was for his sake.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head shortly and said, “I’m fine.” Because he was. He knew she worried for him on a good day, and now he realized she was probably thinking about all the terrible things he’d had to endure while growing up in this shit state. This was the first time he’d come back since leaving - and he was relieved to find that he didn’t want to raze the entire fucking state to the ground.

After Drake’s trial, after Andrew had put forth a statement detailing the abuse at Drake’s hand, and after Drake was put away for fifteen years, Andrew received a letter in the mail from Cass. He had no idea how she had gotten his address at school. He did however, remember holding the letter and staring at her handwriting. He remembered _it_ , of course he fucking did. She would write him notes and leave them in his lunchbox for him to find at school. He looked at the loopy **_A_ ** and the curly **_2_ **... and felt nothing. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t triggered.

He was nothing.

And because he was nothing, he threw that letter into the trash without reading it. That didn’t mean, of course, that what happened with Cass and Drake had no effect on him - it did plenty of fucked up things to his psyche and would for the rest of his life. But it meant that he was dealing with it in the best, healthiest way he could. And in a way, giving his testimony to save however many other kids from going through the same thing he did, was enough to give him some sort of _closure_.

That was probably what made it possible for him to set foot in California.

That and

_And._

They pulled up to the Crescent City Police Department and _Officer_ Mike led the way into the building. While in the car, he called his contact and she agreed to meet with them on her lunch break. Renee and Andrew sat in cheap, uncomfortable chairs, while _Officer_ Mike asked the woman at the front desk to let his contact know they were there.

A few minutes later, a woman with dark hair and caramel skin appeared from the back. She greeted Mike with a friendly handshake, before he introduced them.

Andrew nodded as non-assholeish as he could manage. He was teetering, here. His mind was doing an _okay_ job of compartmentalizing. His talk with Bella had helped this morning and if he was being honest, reading to Madison the night before helped put things into clearer focus - in a way? At least he wasn't reeling like he’d been the day before. The buzzing was kept at bay, his rushing pulse was calm and smooth and -

 _This one fact will not derail this entire investigation Andrew._  

_But which one was it?_

He needed more details. Which, is why he needed this _Detective Christina Alfonso._ She greeted them pleasantly enough, then motioned for them to follow.

“We’ll go down the street to a diner. The food is shit but they have a great chocolate milkshake,” she said, as she led them to what was obviously an unmarked police car. Andrew hesitated for half a beat before Renee placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little push. He inserted himself into the passenger seat before Officer Mike could.

The diner was called Sally’s and it really was right down the road. It was a hole in the wall with worn leather sweets and a checkered tile floor. It reminded him of _Sweeties_.

Once they were seated and Andrew ordered a chocolate milkshake as his meal, they got down to business.

“I know Michael’s theory on the car,” Detective Alfonso said. “But let me just start this by saying, I cannot confirm any of those details. I can tell you what we found and show you the public police report - that’s it. I don’t know anything about the Wesninskis or what happened in Brookings, besides what I have been told from law enforcement up there and from Michael.”

Andrew nodded. “Fine. I just need to get your take on what happened in your own words. Is it okay if we record?”

“Sure, but I would prefer not to use my name or position in the department,” she looked at Andrew calmly and raised a French fry to her mouth, taking a bite while still watching him.

Andrew liked her. Even though she was a cop.

He pulled out his recorder and set it in the middle of the table.

**[ Record On ]**

“Regarding the car that was found on the beach in Crescent City. Were you on the scene?” Andrew began.

“I was called to the scene, yes. I prefer not to say in what capacity,” she munched another French fry.

“Can you tell us what you saw, when you got there?”

Detective Alfonso wiped her hands on a napkin and sat a little straighter.

“When I got there, the shell of the car was immediately apparent, as was the fact that it had been on fire at some point.” She gestured with one hand absentmindedly.

_Right._

“If the car was on fire, how was it that no one noticed? It says here in the report,” Andrew motioned toward the piece of paper he had been skimming while the Detective was talking, “that the car was not discovered until the next morning when the fire had already died out.”

Detective Alfonso nodded. “It was on a remote part of the beach,” she started. “We put feelers out and received a few witnesses who said they saw what they thought was flames, but assumed it was a bonfire. The gas tank didn’t rupture - the fire didn’t even reach it, so there wasn’t an explosion large enough to alert the public.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Were you able to look closely at the vehicle? Could you describe it?”

The detective looked to be thinking back. She took a second or two before saying, “We could tell it was a Volvo S70.” She tapped the paper in front of him. “According to forensics at the scene, the fire had been set inside the car, so the outside wasn’t completely destroyed. However, looking at the inside, the car was a husk.” She sat back in the booth. “Whoever set the fire, soaked the backseat and then must’ve splashed gasoline wherever it could reach inside the car. Presumably, they then ran out before they could completely douse it.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Andrew asked, taking a sip of milkshake.

She looked between them, then seemed to say _fuck it_ , inside her head. “Well,” she gestured again at nothing, “We found a gas can a few feet away - like someone tossed it. It was empty and the fingerprints we found, weren’t in any system. The only thing we were able to really determine was that the fire had been started by gasoline. Which wasn’t rocket science.”

Andrew dried his fingers off from condensation from the glass, then rifled through the papers a bit more, but didn’t find the forensics report. Raising his eyes towards the detective from beneath his glasses, he said, “I don’t see the report in here. Yet, I was told there was evidence of a body found in the back seat?”

Detective Alfonso stared at Andrew for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

“So, there was evidence of a body?”

“Yes-”

_Buzz_

_“-_ It’s not in the public report, but forensics said that the pattern of the fire in the back seat and some fragments found in the car, point to evidence of a body.”

Andrew looked back down at the papers so he wouldn’t have to look in her face. He chewed on his lip ring and closed his eyes for a brief second to breathe in deep through his nose.

_Keep it together._

“What kind of fragments?” he finally asked.

“Bone fragments. They were very small - but unmistakably bone.”

Andrew sat up a little straighter, opened his eyes, and lifted his head. “If you found bone, could you not tell if it was male or female? Extract DNA from it?”

Detective Alfonso was already shaking her head before he could even finish the sentence. “It was too badly degraded. When bone is severely burned like that, it’s almost impossible to get a clean, reliable DNA sample from it. So, no, we couldn’t tell if it was male or female.”

Andrew could feel Renee scoot closer to him in the booth. He took another sip of his milkshake to try and calm himself, but it tasted like dirt and he had to force himself to swallow.

A few seconds of silence stretched between them as Bee buzzed and he cracked his pinky.

“What else can you tell us?” he finally asked quietly.

_Just finish this. Just finish the fucking interview._

He could feel the detective burning holes into where she was staring at him. He tried to seem unaffected. It seemed to work _enough_ , for she replied, “Nothing, really. It was a Navy blue Volvo S70 with Oregon plates. I can’t confirm it was the same car that was in Brookings. I’m sorry I can’t help any more than that.”

_Which one. Which one. Which one._

“No, it’s alright. We really appreciate all of your help,” Renee was saying, _might have said?_ Everything sounded strangely muffled again. He watched the condensation drip down his glass, making a slow descent as Renee continued. “Would it be possible, do you think, for you to show us around the area where the car was found?”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Like a cold bucket of water had been splashed upon him, Andrew lifted his eyes and felt untethered, very suddenly. He’d forgotten - he’d completely forgotten he even wanted to see the _fucking_ scene.

“Not today, unfortunately,” Detective Alfonso said, checking her watch. “I have meetings all day. Will you be here tomorrow though? If you come by at the same time tomorrow, I should be able to show you. Fair warning, there’s nothing there but beach now. It was nine years ago that the car was found, the evidence has been pretty thoroughly picked through.”

_That’s not enough._

He could hear the smile in Renee’s voice as she lay on a pleasant tone. “We know, we don’t expect to find anything new.” As she shook her head, her rainbow-tipped hair flew in his periphery. “We just want to see the place. We’d really appreciate it-” she said again and Andrew was so, unbelievably, glad for her. He was thankful, so fucking _thankful_ to have someone next to him who understood that he wouldn’t be able to get words out right now. ~~_No pleasant ones at least._ ~~

**[ Record Off ]**

They (Renee, Officer Mike, and the Detective) shook on it and left the diner. Andrew smoked through three cigarettes before he allowed himself, Renee and Officer Mike into the car. They then drove to the hotel Renee had found and Andrew went to his room and didn’t plan on coming out until morning.

That night, or evening really, he was three hours behind South Carolina and his internal clock was fucked from the night before, Renee asked if he wanted to get something to eat, but he told her he wasn’t hungry - nor did he want to explore the city. To be honest, he didn’t want to do anything. His mind was fucked in so many ways and he needed this time to **attempt** to screw his head on straight - especially before tomorrow.

_Which one?_

It was nagging at him, burrowing itself inside his psyche and fucking with every little thought that brushed past his mind.

At least he was strong enough to decide that he wasn’t fucking leaving here without answers. He didn’t want to _leave_ without _knowing_ . The knowing would help him, he told himself. The knowing would help him sift through tips and move _on_ . It would help him sift through any tips they’d received after 2010 - right? Help him figure out which were false leads depending on who said what about _who_ they saw. So... he’d stay here. For now.

At some point, Andrew found himself on his laptop, surfing the internet for articles on bone deterioration and car fires. He hopped over to the webpage where there were suddenly a slew of asks regarding this _Ashleigh Miller_. Andrew furrowed his brows and checked his email.

_Ah._

There was something there. They’d gotten it on Monday and he hadn’t had the time to look at it yet. It was already buried beneath the hundreds of emails he’d received since then and took a moment to measure his own mental stability tonight. Determining it wasn’t the best idea, he didn’t open it - he couldn’t. Because tomorrow something big rested on the horizon. Something that could make or break -

He didn’t want to get excited about a lead that might not be anything at all. He didn’t want to let himself hope or whatever the fuck anything in that email might have. Possibilities were just that - possibilities. And he couldn’t let _possibilities_ take over when a _reality_ was going to hit hard tomorrow. It just depended on what _kind_.

Instead, he looked back to the website and suddenly felt a surge of annoyance so strong, he was answering asks before he could stop himself.

Did people really think he’d ignore a legit tip? Did they think he’d be so flippant about this whole thing that he didn’t look at every fucking email they received, to try and weed out the bullshit? Did they think this was just so _fucking_ _easy_?

Yes, apparently. They did.

Eventually, he’d had enough. On a post that was circulating around and read a bunch of words he couldn’t really comprehend in his anger, he explained himself as well as he could, then turned his phone onto the moon. It was 7PM California time. Andrew had’t eaten, he hadn’t slept, and he couldn’t find one fuck to give.

He didn’t sleep that night either.

_Which one?_

_-_

Andrew watched Thursday morning rise from the horizon. He watched the grays in the room turn to pinks, blues, and eventually sunshine. His hand brushed against the duvet and felt the hollow absence of King ring loudly in the spaces between his ribs.

He was still dressed in the clothes from the day before, sans boots, and he sat in the middle of the bed with his knees pulled to his chest and one arm wrapped around them. He stared at the room, stared at the closet - empty.

_Empty, empty, empty._

Like that car and like that beach and like his chest right now.

Eventually, he sighed, took his glasses off, and rubbed his face on his knees before picking up his phone and taking it off _do not disturb_. Notifications started filing in and he immediately realized that was a mistake.

With whatever energy reserves he managed to have left, he made a last ditch attempt to get people off his fucking case, then decided he was done communicating with people for now, and tossed his phone to the side again.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the shower in hopes that if it was hot enough, he would feel it _burn_.

-

**[ Record On ]**

Later that afternoon, Andrew found himself on the California coast. They were at a string of connected coves, collectively called Pebble Beach. Andrew stood at the edge of the water, taking in the salt mist that stuck to his face and the clouds stretching over the gloomy sky. He looked down and lamented his black boots for just a moment.

They were going to be hell to get clean later.

He watched the water touch the edge of his toes and willed his mind to stay perfectly stagnant - perfectly in place. Motion stopped, churning stopped, the spiraling stopped.

“Andrew!” Renee called, from a little further down. “Come on, we’re going to the scene.”

With one last look out at the waves, Andrew obediently moved his feet in her direction.

Detective Alfonso was dressed in a dark, lightweight coat that flapped around her knees as she walked and the ocean breeze brushed by. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, but whisps still whipped around her face as she turned to face them while she walked backward.

Motioning, she said loudly so she could be heard over the waves, “Here’s where the car was found.”

Andrew looked around. It was a small bend where great flat rocks jutted up from the water. Andrew wondered for a moment, why whichever one of them was driving, didn’t just send them straight into the ocean and let themselves slowly drown with their dead family member in the seat behind them.

He probably would’ve.

Ignoring his train of thought, he asked, “Which way was the car facing?”

“This way.” Detective Alfonso motioned with her hand to indicate the front was pointed towards the water. “They were in a hurry, we think. Drove through a parking lot that had a wood fence around.” She turned and pointed towards a chicken wire fence and a parking lot behind it. “Crashed right through and ended up stopping here.” They must’ve changed it after the crash.

Andrew raised a brow. “And no one heard that? Or saw it?”

Detective Alfonso sighed. “The thing you have to understand about Crescent City, is that with all the water and sometimes tsunamis, people go missing.” She spoke louder as a wave crashed one of the jutting rocks. “It’s an easy place to hide or dump a body. Shady things happen at the beach. It’s completely possible someone saw something and didn’t want to get involved.”

Andrew chewed his lip ring and looked out to the water - at the remnants of the waves cascading down the dark rock face. “There were no footprints?” he asked, directing his attention back towards her. “No sign of another person leaving the scene?”

The Detective shook her head. “The wind blows the sand around at night. By the time we got here, there was nothing.”

Andrew just nodded. Renee stepped next to him then so that their shoulders were touching, and Andrew was grateful for the warmth.

“Well, thank you Detective, for showing us out here. I know you must be busy,” Renee smiled, or she might have - Andrew didn’t really know. She probably did, it was Renee after all.

The detective nodded and looked at Andrew for a long moment. “There’s… something else I can offer.” She said after obvious deliberation.

Andrew’s eyes snapped to hers.

Her back straightened and she shoved her hands into her pockets. “I have a friend… a colleague. She’s a forensic scientist that specializes in crime scene investigation and I’ve called her in to help out on a few cases for us, when our own team is stuck - or, when I feel like we need a second opinion.” She paused and removed one of her hands to push a lock of wet hair behind her ear. With that hand, she gestured towards them in offering. “There was an incident about three years ago...” Her lips pressed into a thin line and she looked away, shaking her head. “I can’t get into the specifics with you, but she isn’t _technically_ employed by the department. She’s a free agent. So, she may be willing to talk.”

“Yes. Yes, we’d like to talk to her,” Andrew said immediately. Anything. Grasping, grabbing, reaching. _Anything_ to hold on.

The detective nodded. “Okay. I’ll get in touch with her and see if she’s amenable. Is it okay to give her your contact information if she agrees?”

Andrew agreed and gave Detective Alfonso his cell, his email, Renee’s email, and the number of the hotel they were staying at. She raised a brow at him, but he didn’t care. This was a phone call he didn’t want to miss.

[ Record Off ]

-

An hour later, he and Renee were back at the same diner they had eaten at the day before. Andrew had a plate with a burger and fries in front of him, but couldn’t find it in himself to take a bite just yet.

“You need to eat,” Renee chided gently. “You haven’t eaten a proper meal since yesterday morning. You’re going to pass out and then you’re no good to anyone.”

Andrew shrugged and took a bite of a french fry. “Just not really hungry I guess.”

She sighed, “You’re brooding.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and dropped the rest of the fry onto his plate. “I’m just… trying really hard here, Renee. I’m trying not to spiral.” He stared at the sad fry soaking in the blood from his medium-rare burger. “One of them is dead,” he heard himself whisper. “One of them is already dead and I was too late to stop it from happening.”

_Which one?_

“You can’t seriously be blaming yourself for this.”

“I can and I will and no one can stop me. It’s my super power. Ridiculously taking on unnecessary guilt until I am crushed beneath it.” He threw a fry at her, which she dodged neatly.

“You’re right. I can’t stop you. But even if one of them is dead, the other one is still out there. Alone, now.”

Andrew closed his eyes and imagined a 16-year-old Nathaniel, burning the car with his mother’s body in it and then walking off that beach alone - walking into the _world_ alone... Trying to survive.

Then, he imagined Nathaniel as a corpse, burned beyond recognition and hidden away somewhere by his mother.

_Stop. Stop. Stop._

It was too much. This was why Andrew’s mind was trying its damnedest to shut itself down. Because if he let himself really think about it, really get worked up, he was going to fucking lose it altogether.

And if that happened...?

He was going to have to step away from this case or risk years of work, meticulously crafted by Bee’s gentle hands. He was going to slowly unravel from the inside out and -

And.

He shook his head. “We’ll wait to hear from this forensics lady. Then, we’ll see what else we have to go on. I can’t think ahead of this, right now.”

Renee nodded and paid the bill.

-

Andrew got a call from a doctor named Alisha Jefferson, Thursday night. She told him she’d be willing to meet with them Friday afternoon, and they agreed to meet in Idlewild, CA. Apparently, she was a teacher at Southern Oregon University, and she was in Idlewild working a case for the local PD.

Idlewild was about 45 minutes northeast of Crescent City, and Andrew and Renee made the drive in silence.

He’d managed a few hours of sleep last night - willing ~~forcing~~ himself to shut down because he knew that if he didn’t, whatever this doctor had to tell him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together during this interview if he didn’t.

They arrived at the agreed meeting location. _Another_ small coffee shop that looked like the only thing that existed in this (fucking millionth) small town. Alisha was already there, Andrew knew her from the picture he’d seen on the SOU website.

Alisha had deep dark skin, the kind that stood out in this sort of ~~very white~~ environment. Her hair was shaved close to her head and she had a small gap in between her front teeth, which showed when she smiled at them with red lips.

Although Andrew was a perfectly self-respecting gay man who was, in fact, very gay, he could recognize the appeal.

“Mr. Minyard?” she asked, standing and holding out a hand which Andrew looked at, debated, took a deep breath, and very briefly shook when Renee shot him _look_.

_Behave. You need this._

Andrew swallowed the lump that’s been lodged in his throat all morning and gestured towards Renee. “This is Renee Walker, my colleague.” Renee smiled and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

They all sat after ordering coffee, and Andrew gave himself a mental pat on the back that he didn’t pounce on this woman immediately for answers upon entering the shop.

_Growth, Andrew._

“Do you mind if we record?” he asked her. “If we use your name and credentials?”

“Not at all,” she replied, shaking her head and setting down her cappuccino. “I’m a free agent, so it’s not like there’s really anyone to fire me for talking.” She smiled.

Andrew nodded, grateful for at least one person on this trip willing to go on record. He pulled his recorder out and set it up.

**[ Record On ]**

“Right. So. Can you state your name for us, how to spell it, and your credentials?”

“Doctor Alisha Jefferson,” She spelled her full name, “forensic scientist specializing in crime scene investigations and current professor at Southern Oregon University.”

Andrew got right to it.

“Our contact at the Crescent City PD told us that you may have more information regarding the burned car?”

Doctor Jefferson nodded. “I told them this when I found it, but no one really took it seriously.” She clasped her hands on the table. Her nails were painted red, too. “A lot of bodies wash up in Crescent City. I think the local law enforcement is a bit immune to it at this point.”

_Buzz_

“What did you find?” Andrew urged.

“About three years ago, your contact called me in to look at some evidence that had washed up on the beach. When I got to Crescent City and into the lab, it turned out to be a backpack.”

“A backpack?”

“Yes.” She nodded down, but her eyes remained locked on the two of them. “Full of bones that had been very badly burned and as a result, broken from the fire and saltwater.”

Andrew’s stomach dropped.

_Buzz, buzz -_

_No, no, no_

“Bones? You said bodies wash up on that beach all the time. Why would this have anything to do with the burned out car?”

Alisha wet her full lips and took a deep breath. She shook her head and replied, “I know it seems like a stretch, which is why I don’t think people really took me seriously. But, I looked into the case of the car when it happened. At that time, I was still working on my PhD and did a short stint in the forensics lab there. That,” she motioned to herself and no one, “is how your contact and I know each other.” She paused and her demeanor shifted. Like a wall coming down, her shoulders slightly hunched and her brow furrowed. “It just seems quite the coincidence, that a car that was determined to have a body in it at the time it was burned, should show up in Crescent City. No bones ever found. No evidence of where the body went. Then, years later, a backpack washed up on the beach with badly burned bones in it. I tend to trust my gut and my gut tells me these are connected.”

Bee was buzzing, blood was rushing - Andrew tried to breathe steadily.

Eventually, he managed to get out, “Then, the question is, could you tell if those bones were male or female?”

“No.”

He stopped breathing altogether.

_‘No.’_

_No. no no no no no._

Andrew dropped his head and leaned back in his seat. He was about to push away from the table, before Doctor Jefferson continued speaking.

As she riffled through her messenger bag, she said, “There was, however, more in the backpack. I don’t know if it would help you or not.”

“Please,” Renee quickly said. “We’ll take any bit of info you have.”

Doctor Jefferson nodded and finally pulled out a yellow folder. She flipped it open on the table, then turned it around so they could see. It was filled with pictures of the contents of the backpack.

“These are my own pictures. The CCPD would have copies, of course. But,” her voice lowered, “I imagine they would be difficult to get.”

_Focus. Look at them. It might not -_

Andrew and Renee scooted closer, heads together. Andrew looked and he wanted to laugh. Or scream. He wasn’t sure which just yet.

Because, yes.

This was them.

Passports... There was a whole stack of passports that had been burned like everything else. Nothing useful seemed to remain - the insides destroyed along with the pictures. Andrew lifted a photograph and there seemed to be a corner of a date left on one, but that didn’t really do anything to help him. The picture after that were ID’s, melted, warped, and twisted.

The next picture.

The next picture had Renee gripping Andrew’s arm and he picked the paper up for no other reason than to hide his face.

It was an exy magazine. Burned all around the edges, and the only thing clearly visible, was Kevin Day’s face - number 2 standing out stark and clean.

~~_It was him._ ~~

_No it wasn’t._

_No no no no no no no no no-_

_Buzz-_

He was broken out of his reverie when Doctor Jefferson said, “You can take those, if you want. They’re just copies and lord knows I’ve looked at them enough times.”

Andrew might have nodded and put all the pictures back together in a stack, then into the folder - which he might have slipped into his bag.

Then, he stood abruptly and felt his feet quickly heading out of the coffee shop and leaving Renee to handle the pleasantries and end the recording.

The sky was overcast and the air was so damp, he was finding it hard to breathe. ~~He couldn’t breathe in the first place.~~

Andrew found his way to the car, but he didn’t get in. Instead, he leaned against the passenger side and tried several times to light a cigarette.When one wouldn’t work, he pulled out another, and when that wouldn’t either - he tossed both _it_ and his lighter across the parking lot, before wrenching open the door and sliding himself in. He slammed the door shut, then leaned forward as far as he could, folding himself in half and crossing his arms over his head.

He felt like he was choking, like something in his throat was expanding and suffocating him.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Bee burned and he pressed his fingers into her so hard, he could feel his pulse fight past the pressure and echo loudly in his ears. His other fingers gathered tightly in his hair and he pulled harder and harder and harder _and harder and harder -_

The drivers door opened and shut however long later. And he finally came up for air, gasping.

“It’s him,” he wheezed, feeling his eyes burn and blur and sting and - “It’s Nathaniel. He’s dead. He’s the one. He’s _dead_ Renee. I was too late. I was too fucking late he’s been dead this entire time-”

Andrew felt insane. He felt unhinged. He felt dangerously close to tears and he didn’t even care.

“Hey,” Renee said, trying to grab Andrew’s flailing hands. “ _HEY_!”

Andrew paused and Renee caught him, forced him to look at her.

“Stop it. Right now. Stop this and breathe. _Think_ . This is not the end. You don’t know it’s Nathaniel, and even if it is, Mary is still out there. She could still be in need of help, she could still be waiting for someone to tell their story. For _you_ to tell their story.”

Andrew shook his head. She didn’t understand. _She couldn’t fucking understand_.

“Let’s go back to the hotel and regroup, alright? Andrew-” When he didn’t nod, she leaned in close over the gearshift. “This isn’t the end. We have a ton of emails we need to sort through, and that one girl is annoyingly adamant. Okay?”

Andrew stopped.

Stopped moving, that is. He froze and put his hands over his face, fingers beneath his glasses and _pressed_. There was moisture beneath the pads, but he ignored it as he forced himself to take a few deep breaths - as he tried to remember what Bee had taught him when he was an angry 16-year-old who didn’t understand why the world was actively working against him.

_Breathe in. Slowly, now. Not too fast, Andrew. Good. Now hold it to the count of three. Perfect, you’re doing so well. Now let it out Andrew. Let the air out and let it take those thoughts with it._

Andrew sat back in his seat sometime later and put his seat belt on. Renee took that as assent and began the drive back to the hotel.

-

That night, Renee was in his hotel room. She hardly ever bothered when they traveled, knowing that Andrew preferred his own space, but she was trying to coax him to eat something with chocolate while he robotically filed through emails. Like a laser focus, his eyes glued to the screen.

_I need something._

_Anything to hold onto._  

Andrew’s phone rang, loud and piercing in the near-silent the room, and he answered it without looking to see who it was. Dan’s voice came over the line.

 _‘Have you seen the post on the blog from this Ashleigh girl?’_ she asked.

“I skimmed it,” his voice sounded dead to his ears.

_‘It sounds pretty legit. Are you going to try and follow up?’_

Closing his eyes, he prayed to whatever false god to give him strength. With a deep breath that had become easier as the night wore on, he replied, “I’m going through emails right now. Everything sounds like bullshit. I’ll let you know when I get to hers and what we find.”

_‘Okay. You okay out there? You seem pretty stressed on the webpage.’_

_Be nice._

“No. I’m not okay _out here._ I’m trying to find the most legit tip I can and get the fuck out, so I can figure out what the fuck is going on. I’ll fill you in when we get home tomorrow.” Andrew scrolled down in his email until he found the one from Ashleigh Miller.

_‘Right... Okay, then. Sounds good. Take care of yourselves.’_

Andrew hung up the phone before she finished speaking, and opened up the email.

He read it twice.

_Oh._

“Renee,” he said. “Come read this.”

_Okay. Okay okay okay okayokayokayokay -_

Renee appeared over his shoulder and read. Eventually, she whispered, “What do you think?”

He shook his head, cracked both his pinkies and pressed his shoulder behind his ear. “I think it’s the best lead we have in a giant pile of bullshit. We’ll follow up and see where it goes. Once we get home tomorrow we’ll contact her and plan.”

Andrew was about to close the page when Renee stopped him with a finger pointed at the bottom of the screen. “Wait,” she said. “There’s an attachment.”

Andrew’s heart sped up as he opened it and then, it froze completely in his chest.

_Fuck._

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

**_Fuck_ **

He leaned forward and squinted his eyes.

It wasn’t a very good picture - obviously, he didn’t know it was being taken, but Andrew couldn’t deny the similarities. Skin a deep tan and freckles on his face, slight build, short looking.

“Is...is it him?” Renee asked.

_Yes._

_No._

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “But change of plans. We’re going to Arizona tomorrow. Get in touch with this girl and tell her we’re coming.”

_I have to know. Are you Nathaniel?_

Renee nodded and typed the contact info into her phone, before retreating to her room to solidify the change of plans.

_Which one?_

-

That night, Andrew lay on the bed on top of the blankets and stared at the picture zoomed in on his laptop.

_Is this you?_

He touched a finger to the face on the screen and let himself _hope_.

His phone buzzed, and when he picked it up, there was a text message from a blocked number.

_‘let California die with her. Don’t put it on the air.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRANSCRIPT HERE](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1W6wKVCFhDlEAZcKJpSt8a-E-g0v8PZ_uh38vR-wfP3Y/edit?usp=sharing). REMEMBER! IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT! READ TILL THE END!
> 
> Follow RRP on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/). Soon, we're going to be doing a giveaway for 1k! So stay tuned!!! 
> 
> Big things are happening y'all ;)


	13. My name is Nathaniel Wesninski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Let California die with her. Don’t put it on the air._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh whats this? A cheeky little Neil chapter? Oh ^^  
> So! Here it is. Neil's reaction :) Things are picking up! We warned you!!!!  
> Now, here's the deal. We already have the next 2 chapters written and they are literally everything we've been waiting to write from DAY ONE!!! Thank Jeni. Seriously. She is a fucking bad ass beast that had them written in literally what, 2? 3 days?! All thats left is to rewrite them, which means we are ahead of schedule! Yes, you heard right. Ahead. of. schedule :) So if any of you were worried about starting, us not finishing, getting into an unfinished work - we will finish this. We promise. And our posting schedule? It's ramping up. So make sure you are subscribed so you get emails whenever we post! That! Or follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) if you have not already, to stay up to date!
> 
> Some CW's for this one:  
> Panic attacks  
> Blood mention  
> minor violence  
> Flashbacks to Mary's death. So just please keep that in mind with moving forward. Okie dokie? Okie dokie.
> 
> As always, thank you all so fucking much for all the love and support. The comments on last chapter had us SCREAMING!!! 
> 
> We hope you enjoy!!!!!

_‘My name is Nathaniel Wesninski. And my father is dead.’_

Matt and Neil sat on the sofa, side by side and staring down into their mugs. The air smelled like coffee and the cleaner that was soaking into the stain Neil had spilled on the carpet. The TV was off. The only thing Neil could hear was the ticking of an offset clock Matt had shining on his mantle, the sound of his deep breathing, and the slowing beat of blood in his ears.

After Neil had finally revealed the truth to Matt and then proceeded to bury his face in Matt’s shirt for the better part of an hour, Matt managed to coax him into the living room to sink into the deep cushions of the couch. He disappeared only long enough to make a fresh pot of coffee and came back to shove a cup into Neil’s cold, numb hands, and sit beside him.

They’d been quite for a while now. Neil didn’t know how long. It was very late and the night doused the white apartment in hues of blues and purples. It painted everything over, gave the place a new, softer life, and Neil was thankful - because ringing loudly across its crisp walls was the truth.

His truth.

_Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid, Nathaniel._

“So,” Matt finally said. “You’re really…I mean…you’re him, then?”

What was he supposed to say...?

_No? I’m lying. Psyche! Jokes on you!_

“Yes,” he heard himself whisper. It was so soft, not even his coffee rippled from his breath.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Matt took a deep breath and let it out in a puff of air so loud, it felt like it could’ve shook the room. “Okay.”

_Okay?_

Neil looked up at him for the first time. The blues and purples colored his dark skin in a way it could never color his own. The cool tones didn’t leech the life from him, no, they _gave_ him life - made his perpetually warm brown eyes look only warmer. Neil shook his head, “Okay?”

Matt nodded, ever oblivious, ever kind, ever _so fucking stupid_ , “Okay.” He turned so he was facing Neil on the couch and pulled his long legs up so they were crossed in front of him. With only a beat of silence between, he let his shoulders hunch as he looked to Neil as if _he_ were the stupid one.

~~_You are_ _._ ~~

“I knew there was _something_ , Neil. I know you think I trust too easily, but I’m not an idiot. I knew there was something and I knew it had to do with the podcast. I just didn’t think… _this_ .”

_Ah..._

Neil felt his lips pressed together. He looked back down into his coffee. It was too dark to see his own reflection. “ _This.._ .” he sighed and closed his eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m just used to hiding - used to kind of playing a part.” When he looked up, Matt was staring at him in that open, honest way he was so good at. It’s why Neil kept talking. _Stupidly_ **_._ ** _“_ I’ve done it for as long as I can remember. My mom and I…we just kept moving and kept changing roles.” The coffee was turning cold. He soaked up all the warmth he could from it, and all that was left behind was a cool, smooth mug.

Neil closed his eyes and tried not to think about what his mother’s reaction would be to him coming clean like this.

_What are you bloody thinking Abram?! Do you want to get us killed? Do you want to -_

~~_No._ ~~

She would beat the shit out of him and then forcibly drag him away. He wouldn’t ever be able to talk to another person on the _outside_ again.

“Your mom. Is she…?” Matt asked hesitantly, lowering his voice a few octaves.

“Dead,” Neil’s voice sounded the same. Dead. “She’s dead,” he tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “One of my father’s people killed her in California when I was sixteen. I went to Arizona after that and stayed too long. I left when I heard the podcast and got stuck here when I sent most of my money to a contact for a new ID to get out of the country. He was picked up by the feds before I could get to him.”

“Ah,” Matt said, swirling in the contents of his cup. Neil realized then that neither of them had taken a sip. “Your appointment?”

Neil nodded, then steeled himself for something that should’ve been done a long time ago. With a deep breath, he leaned forward and put his mug on the table. Rubbing his hands on his legs, he shook his head and stared at his knees, “I’ll be gone by morning...” When he lifted his head, Matt’s brows were tightly furrowed and his chin pulled back.

_It’s the right thing to do._

Neil barreled on, “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. But, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything. For letting me stay and getting me a job. I was safer here than I would’ve been anywhere else.”

~~_I don’t want to go._ ~~

_You have to, Nathaniel._

“Gone?” Matt shook his head, “No, no, no, no, no. Back up.” He set down his own mug and held up a hand. “You’re not leaving. Are you crazy?” ~~_Yes_ ~~ **_._ ** “Listen, your father is dead. You can stop running now, right? Isn’t that who you’ve been hiding from this whole time?” Matt’s eyes were hard, daring Neil to disagree.

But Neil had to, didn’t he?

_Yes. You have to leave. If you don’t you only put him in Danger._

He shook his head.

“It was him,” Neil admitted. _But,_ “But it was also his men. They were still tracking us when Nathan went to prison, and I don’t see why they would’ve stopped. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re going to ramp it up now.” _Lola._ “There’s a woman…she’s insane.” Neil debated for half a second whether or not he should explain, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. ~~_Stupid_ ~~ . “When my father was finally convicted and sentenced, she came after us. They’d all left us alone for the most part in the years between... But when Nathan got life - she came after us.” When he closed his eyes, he could see her face... Red hair, red lips, _red red red -_

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

Matt didn’t interrupt him. He remained quiet until Neil continued, “She’s the one who killed my mom and…Matt if anything happened to you because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

The silence was deafening. Truth rang loud before, but it was muted by Neil’s desperation to leave **_to stay._ **

He watched as Matt rubbed his face with both hands before dropping them back in his lap. Matt’s voice remained low, but there was a sureness about it that made Neil feel - he didn't know. “You said you’re safe here? Safer than you would’ve been anywhere else?”

_That’s not the point, you idiot._

Rolling his neck, Neil replied nonetheless, “Yeah,” nodding. “I mean the security here alone is a runaway's dream. But I don’t trust it now. Not with Nathan dead and his biggest players still out there.” He frowned, “I’m not staying here, Matt. I’ll keep in touch. Let you know I’m okay. But I’m leaving.”

Matt slapped his hands onto his knees and shook his head, standing up. He paced from one end of the couch to the other. “No. No, I think you should stay here.” He pointed down at the floor and looked to Neil as he paced. “You’re right, you’re safe here where the security is good - fanfuckingtastic even,” he nodded, eyes growing a bit wide. “I’ll hire people - some guards or some shit. They can hang out outside the apartment to keep an extra eye.” He continued, bare feet and their muffled thuds as he trekked across the carpet. He lifted his thumb to his lips and chewed on the side, brows furrowed. “Maybe I should get a gun-”

“ _Matt-”_

Matt waved a hand at him. “No! Listen! I know it’s hard to get a permit in the city, but I could get a premise license, so we could just have one here in the apartment - just in case. If you add that,” he gestured side to side with both hands, “and extra security posted outside-”

“We’d be drawing even more attention to ourselves!” Neil raised his voice just a bit. _Was he actually serious?!_ Closing his eyes, he held up his own hands as if to calm this big idiot down. “Just... listen to me.” When he opened his eyes, Matt was squinting towards the front door as if imagining it. “ _Matthew.”_ He didn’t continue until Matt tore his eyes away and finally focused on him. “Listen. You don’t know what I’m dealing with here. The kind of people that would gladly take me apart if they could, just to avenge my insane father. Honestly, I appreciate you being so concerned, I really do. But this is the only thing that makes sense.” Neil hated not staying. He hated the thought of leaving and never seeing Matt again. He hated that he had just outed himself and then basically let Matt hold him through his panic and anxiety and now was ready to bolt.

He hated how undeserving of all of this Matt was.

He hated how Matt sat on the couch again, crossed his arms over his broad chest and said very plainly, “No.”

_No?_

“No?”

“No. Simple as that. No. You’re staying here, and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it, okay? Let a motherfucker come to this door looking for you. I wish they would,” Matt had a gleam in his eye that promised violence.

~~_I trust you._ ~~

_Trust no one, Nathaniel. Never._ ~~_Especially not this bumbling oaf._ ~~

Neil wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. How the hell had his life turned into this...?

Sweet Matt. Kind, trusting Matt. Literally willing to get a gun and kill someone for trying to get to Neil.

Neil opened his mouth to argue, but Matt cut him off. “I’ll follow you. I swear Neil. You disappear and I’ll follow you wherever you go next. Stay here. Please. Let me keep an eye on you. I’ll be worried every fucking day that your father’s people or hell, even Minyard will find you. Don’t do that to me, man.”

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to _do_ with _this_? Someone caring, someone willing to hold onto him - to protect him. His mother was willing, of course. She died trying to protect them both... But sometimes, he wondered if that was the only reason she did it. Because she was his mother... He didn’t know if she sincerely loved him and cared for him because he was worthy of being loved, or because she was his mother - because that title was the only thing driving her to keep moving, keep going, keep them safe.

Matt didn’t have any of that. He had no hand in this. He could easily let Neil leave right now and wipe his hands clean of the whole situation.

But he didn’t and deep down, Neil knew he wouldn’t. Because Matt was stupid, he was a dumb idiot that loved too hard and cared too much and - is this what a real, loving friendship was? Is this what people do for each other? Is this what selflessness really is...?

_No, Nathaniel._

~~_Yes_ **_._ ** ~~

“Fine,” Neil said, regretting the words before they even left his lips, but he couldn’t take them back. They were there, hanging in the air and he doubled down, made them real and solid and - “Fine. I’ll stay. _For now_ . At least until Andrew gives up stalking me.” _That’s it._ “Once he loses the trail and loses interest, I’m leaving, okay? I’ll keep in touch like I said, but I have to leave then.”

Matt stood again only to stop directly in front of Neil’s spot on the couch and looked down at him. “We’ll see,” he said, that smile blooming large and white on his face. “This is why you’ve been telling me not to contact Dan, isn’t it?

“Partly.”

“Partly? What do you mean partly?”

“I wasn’t lying, Matt. That shit could get real creepy real fast. But also, yeah. You would’ve outed me.”

Matt shook his head. “Ah well. It’s for a good cause I suppose. In another life, Dan Wilds and I got married and had babies.”

“Sure, Matt. If you say so.”

-

The two of them pretended like nothing was different. Matt wanted him to quit his job at the stadium and basically become a recluse - stay locked up in the apartment with the half-gone coffee stain and Sir and all of the _stuff_ he’d accumulated. But although Matt’s apartment started feeling like ~~_home_~~ something good, Neil couldn’t do that. He’d become stir crazy and reckless and it was in everyone’s best interest for him to leave at least _sometimes_.

So, everything stayed pretty much the same - with the exception that Matt knew the truth and that changed more than Neil would probably like to admit. But they were little - small things that had been slipping here and there. Things like the fact that Matt now knew (probably had the entire time) that Neil was hiding his appearance.

Two days had passed. Everything around Neil felt so right, yet so out of place at the same time.

It was early evening. The sun was still high in the summer sky, but it was covered by a thick layer of clouds. Neil had gone for a run earlier in the day, but the air was thick with a coming storm and a headache had finally gone away from the pressure change.

The two of them sat in the living room. A movie Neil didn’t know the name or understand the plot of, was rattling away forgotten on the TV. Sir lay on the coffee table, her tail swishing back and forth, creeping closer and closer to the glass of _moscato_ Matt was currently working on like one of those fucking housewives on that show he liked to TiVo on Tuesday nights.

Neil was blinking his contact back in place because the topic ~~_finally_ ~~ came up.

“You’re eyes are fucking gorgeous,” Matt said, almost incredulous. “I mean, I get why you hide them. But fuck...”

Neil shook his head, feeling his face heat as he bowed his head and blinked several more times. “Yeah, well. They’re _his_.”

Matt didn’t say anything else after that.

He did, however, set up a kind of fucking Red Rabbits Command Center in the living room. The next day, Neil woke up to rain pattering harshly on the wide windows in his room. When he finally made his way towards the kitchen, he was stopped by the... absurdity? Ridiculousness? _Obsession?_ Of what was fucking waiting for him.

He must’ve been up the entire night. Neil knew Matt was hooked on checking to see where Andrew was in the timeline and what information he had. He knew that Matt was serious about keeping tabs on the podcast in order to try and keep _Neil_ safe. But this?

Matt stood in front of the partial wall that acted as a separation between the living room and dining room. It had open space on either side, but stretching over the whole width were papers and pictures tacked up with a fucking _red string_ connecting one to the next.

“This is what he knows,” Matt started seriously as soon as Neil turned the corner. “Look, here is the evidence-” he pointed towards a cluster of pictures. “Here are the pictures he has. I don’t think he even has a clue where you are.” Matt rubbed his hands and laughed delightedly. “He’s on a wild goose chase. Maybe we should send in false sightings.”

_This is why you need to leave, Nathaniel._

_You’re being stupid._

_Look at him. He’s going to fucking expose you._

~~_You’re_ ~~ _He’s in too deep._

What the fuck was he supposed to say...? “Matt…just…. _no_.” ?

_Oh._

Matt shook his head, “But _look_! We’ll update it as new info comes in! We’ll be a step ahead of him!” He was practically jumping up and down, hands motioning to the wall. He even pulled over one of the side tables. There was a skein of red yarn, scissors, and -

“I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate this...” _But -_ “But to be completely honest, seeing it all laid out like this kind of makes me want to puke.”

Matt ended up acquiescing good naturedly, but Neil had a sneaking suspicion he’d just moved everything to his bedroom.

-

The next podcast drop was Sunday, and Matt and Neil actually listened together for the first time. It was strange, but comforting to have Matt’s large presence in the room with him. Something about it was grounding - made him feel less like he was hiding and more like he could actually parse through this shit.

Luckily, most of the episode were things he already knew from the audio notes, so the impact wasn’t as jarring - just a rehashing Europe and The Kathy Show. However, when he got to the part about Nathan’s death, Neil could feel himself tense up. It was... odd. Because Nathan’s death was a _good_ thing. Neil was glad his father was dead... But...

But.

Matt squeezed his wrist lightly and Neil forced himself to relax.

And then he laughed. Because of _course_.

“He had an interview with Nathan,” Neil said, barely containing himself at the insanity of it all. “He had an interview with Nathan and then he was killed _while Andrew was there_ .” He could feel tears stinging at his eyes and he had to bow his head and press his fingers into the corners of his eyes. “Oh my fucking _god_ -”

“That’s a fucked-up coincidence,” Matt said grimly, shaking his head.

Neil shook his own and took a deep breath, “Oh no, it’s no fucking coincidence,” with a little sniff, he tilted his head back against the cushion of the couch from where he sat in front of it. “No. Whoever killed him didn’t want him talking to Andrew. I don’t know who it was or why.”

_But I can take a guess._

_The Moriyamas, obviously_.

Even more interesting than that, however, was Andrew’s story at the end. Growing up in foster care - landing in juvie... long lost brother... putting four men in the hospital single handedly. **_Fuck_ **. And his reasons for doing this in the first place? Neil didn’t know how to feel about that.

~~_He didn’t know how to feel about any of it._ ~~

_I also mention foster care because it’s part of the reason why this case is so personal. Although, no, Nathaniel was not in the system - he was still a child of abuse and neglect. He was still a child of trauma and unimaginable pain._

_This case is hard for me to swallow sometimes - when I see things like_ **_‘don’t be bad’_ ** _or a school picture of a child who has all the outward appearance of a normal kid._

_I looked normal, too._

_I just want to help. I just want to make sure wherever they are, they’re safe and have what they need. I want to tell their story in their own words if they’ll let me._

_That’s my motivation._

_That’s my story._

Neil could feel Matt looking at him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look back.

_Is that all, Andrew Minyard?_

He managed to make it through the rest of the podcast - hear about them heading to the west coast. When it was done he told Matt he was going to bed.

He didn’t sleep that night.

-

_Obsessed._

Matt was fucking _obsessed_ with checking the Red Rabbit web page - looking for updates, for leads, anything. On Monday, he announced with the air of a town crier, that Andrew was in Seattle.

“He said he was going to follow up on the shooting. We didn’t spend any real length of time there,” Neil replied as he walked over and sat next to Matt on the couch to look at the computer screen. It was open on an ask someone sent asking, _‘How’s Seattle?_ ’

Andrew’s answer made Neil’s skin crawl.

_‘Seattle has been…enlightening.’_

“What the hell does that mean?” Matt asked. Neil rubbed his forehead.

_I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know._

“I have no idea. I can’t imagine what he could find there.-”

~~_Yes you do._ ~~

“-The only thing Nathan was charged with, was possession of illegal firearms. But I know there were witnesses who saw what happened. We…we were on a playground. I was never allowed to play like that again. But there were plenty of people around who saw. It’s the ~~_worst_ ~~ best kept secret on that case.”

Neil tried not to get lost thinking about it. About his mother yanking him off a swing. Shoving him into the backseat of a car. Gunshots going off.

_‘Get down, Abram! Don’t get back up until I tell you! STAY DOWN!’_

He tried not to think of the loud noises, the _bang bang bang_ as shots fired all around. He tried not to think of the engine revving below him, or the all consuming fear, or his mother panting in the front seat as she drove them away.

He tried not to think of the shot so loud it still rang in his eardrums... or the pain - the sharp, searing pain; the warm slick of blood; the realization that _I might die._

Neil rubbed at the scar at his collar, felt the puckered skin long since healed and tucked - thankfully - no where vital.

“Shit,” Matt whispered to himself.

_Yeah..._

Nonetheless, even though it was odd telling him all this, odd having him here and listening - it was... Neil didn’t know. It didn’t _really_ feel odd, if he was being honest with himself. It felt nice - nice to have someone who knew everything... Who knew and still wanted him around.

Matt really was an idiot.

~~_I told you._ ~~

“Maybe he thinks he found something with that?” Neil wondered aloud. “Who knows. It doesn’t put him any closer to New York. Let him run around in circles.”

Matt nodded in solidarity. Then printed the ask out for what Neil assumed was the super-secret Red Rabbits Command Center in his room.

Neil didn’t care, so long as he couldn’t see it.

-

Thursday night, Matt and Neil played exy at the stadium. Neil thought he was really improving. He could get around Matt five out of ten times now, and he was less winded when they were done. It was moments like these he wished he’d had an older brother growing up.

_No. I would never wish this life on another kid._

They were back at the apartment hanging out, when Matt called Neil from the living room.

“Hey, come here a sec. There’s a post from some girl on here saying she knows you.”

Neil snorted and thought _join the fucking club._ Rolling his eyes, he made his way to Matt with a brow raised on his face and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

_No one knows me. I’m invisible._

~~_Idiot_ ~~ **_._ **

Leaning over Matt’s shoulder, one hand moved idly to Sir who laid out on her back beside Matt’s leg. He stroked her soft fur as he read the short ask on the Red Rabbits page. He got about halfway through before he felt his dinner rise from his stomach. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he backed up right when Matt looked over at him and immediately got to his feet.

“Neil? What? What is it? Don’t fucking bolt on me again - just -” He pointed to the screen, “Do you know her?” He’d come around the couch and stood infront of Neil. His hands lifted to take Neil’s shoulders, but thought better of it as Sir jumped onto the back of the couch and looked up at Neil expectantly.

Like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over him, Neil felt the blood leave his face and his head turn light. He could only imagine how pale he looked.

_No, no, no, no nonononono..._

Turning away quickly, he swallowed hard and pushed his fingers through his hair. Stopping at his neck, he gripped at his own skin hard as he forced himself to calm down and breathe.

“Yes,” Neil finally forced out quietly. “I worked with her in Arizona. We…she…” Neil shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. “She was there when I ran. She played the podcast and that’s the only reason I heard it. I freaked out and bolted.”

When he looked back, Matt looked like he had something to say, but felt bad about it. Neil groaned quietly and said, “What, Matt? Spit it out -”

Matt pressed his lips together and leaned his hip against the couch. “I mean.. Yeah. That does sound an awful lot like you...” A small smile tickled the corner of his lips, but was extinguished the moment he saw Neil whine and walk around the couch.

Falling back into the cushions, he groaned, “ _Fuck_ -’ then a louder, “ _Fuck, fuck, FUCK -_ I should’ve seen this coming -” he took another deep breath. “She’s fucking obsessed with this sort of shit. I knew she listened to the podcast. I should’ve known she’d get involved and try to contact them-” he bowed his head into his hands and tangled his fingers in his hair again.

_I told you, Nathaniel. You should’ve just run. How could you be so fucking stupid?!_

“Hey-” Matt started, walking around again so he stood in front of Neil. “Hey, Neil. Calm down. Relax - does she know where you went when you ran? Does she know you’re here?” He asked, finally committing and placed his hands on Neil’s shoulders to force him to look up.

_No. She doesn’t._

“No.”

“Alright, so, you’re fine!” Matt said, shaking him a little. “Forget about it. She don’t know shit.”

_She don’t know shit._

He wanted to believe that.

Andrew’s answer was at least comforting. It seemed like he wasn’t terribly concerned with getting in touch with her right away. He seemed distracted with whatever was happening in Seattle.

Neil just didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

-

Bad.

It was very bad.

Horrible.

Terrible.

 _Fuck, fuck,_ **_fuck._ **

Matt had alerts set up on his phone, so every time a new post was made on the website, he would be notified. Neil thought it was overkill and every time Matt’s phone went off, he cringed internally. Matt meant well, he knew that. He also knew that this was for his own good. He needed to know what was going on, whether he liked it or not.

He just really didn’t fucking like it.

Wednesday night, someone sent an ask implying Andrew shouldn’t be sharing his whereabouts with everyone, to which Andrew replied:

_‘What whereabouts? Crescent City, California? Which is right near the Oregon border? On the coast? Those whereabouts?’_

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?!” Neil exploded. He was angry this time - no. He was _pissed._ Andrew was too close - so fucking _close_ . He was there where she was. Right where Neil had left her - “Why doesn’t he just _stop_? Why won’t he stop?!”

Matt shook his head. They were sitting at the bar in the kitchen and Neil slammed his hands onto the counter. “I don’t think he’s going to. He seems pretty damn determined. What’s in Crescent City? Something that could lead him here?”

 _Worse_ , Neil wanted to say. But that wasn’t true. It was just him being emotional, he supposed.

_Stop it._

But he couldn’t.

Not as Matt raised a brow and asked, “What’s worse than him ending up at our doorstep?”

“My mother,” Neil said before he could stop himself. “My mother is in Crescent City,” he buried his face in his hands.

_They smelled like blood and dirt, gas and fire and sand and salt and sweat and metal and pain and fear and and and -_

“I thought you said she was dead?”

“She is,” Neil groaned and rubbed his face before dropping his hands and sitting up straight to face Matt. He was going to tell him.

_Don’t._

He might as well.

_No, Nathaniel._

He was going to tell him and then Matt would kick him out like he should’ve done ages ago.

~~_good_ **_._ ** ~~

“We were caught by Lola in Oregon-” he started.

“Lola... She’s the one you talked about before?”

“Yeah...” Neil nodded and took a deep breath. Letting it out in a huff, he continued, “I still don’t know exactly how she tracked us, but she did. She ran us off the road into an empty parking lot. She was shooting at us, so my mom got out of the car and started shooting back. I got out too…I don’t even know why - It’s so stupid now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Hey,” Matt said, and Neil looked up at him. “You’re not stupid. It was a fucked up situation and you were a kid.”

“I was sixteen...” Neil whispered, his eyes squinting. Shaking his head, he wet his lips, chewed on the inside of one, then found it in himself to agree. “I mean... I guess,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I got out of the car to try and pull her back in. But I was halfway around the front before I had to duck. When I finally got to her… Lola fired one more time and hit her in the stomach. I managed to shove both of us in the backseat - I have no fucking clue _how_. But,” he closed his eyes and he could hear it - hear them. “There were sirens in the distance so Lola bolted. I jumped to the front and got the fuck out of there too. We made it as far as Crescent City before I had to pull over. But-” He bit so hard into his bottom lip that he heard the skin break in his ears and he relished, for a moment, in the sting and the faint saltiness of blood. Pressing the tip of his tongue against the wound, he quickly moved on, “But, I knew. Before I even looked in the back seat, I knew she was dead.”

Neil remembered everything. He remembered shaking her. Calling to her over and over.

_‘Mum... Mum, wake up! Mum, please... Please don’t do this... Don’t leave me alone out here-’_

Mary didn’t wake up. She didn’t move, she didn’t breathe. All she did was bleed... Bleed blood so red, he could see it in the darkness. It covered everything. It was sticky and it was slick and it was dry and it was fresh and and and -

Neil remembered climbing into the backseat. He remembered making himself as small as he could - curled up on the floor, laying his head on her stomach where all he could smell was blood and all he could feel was the wet warmth of it. There was no heartbeat, no rattling of her breath - nothing but his cries until he couldn’t tell the difference between the salty sea air and his own tears.

That’s when her voice came. It was in the back of his head and a constant reminder to _keep going. Stiffen up that upper lip. Move move move and never_ ** _fucking_** **_stop, Abram._**

He couldn’t stay. No. _They had a plan_ . He knew exactly what to do if anything happened to her. He knew what she wanted and he _would not_ let her fucking down.

~~_Too late._ ~~

With a kiss to her cooling forehead, he closed her eyes and set to work. He pulled the gas can out of the trunk, poured it all over her and splashing the rest of the car. He dumped out their bags, leaving all the passports and IDs in the car to burn along with his mother's body. An exy magazine fell out, Neil remembered, when he was shaking out his bag. It had Kevin Day on the cover. His mother didn’t know he had it. He’d nicked it from a convenience store a few states back and kept it hidden for the rare moment when his mother was busy. He tossed that in with the passports. He didn’t deserve to keep it.

Then, he did what she wanted him to do. He lit the car and all of its contents on fire - lit _her_ on fire... And when morning came and the fire had burned itself out, Neil took his backpack and filled it with his mother’s still warm and crumbling bones, the passports and IDs that were mostly destroyed, and that exy magazine. He dug a hole with his hands in the pebbly sand. His nails broke, rocks dug in. It was only when his fingers were bleeding and the hole was deep enough, that he buried them all on the beach.

Numb and void, tired and _cold_ , he slung his mother’s bag over his shoulder with his remaining possessions and a new ID. They were all he had left - everything fitting in a Jansport bag and a binder with a 4x6 tucked in its pages. He made one stop, before beginning his long trek to Arizona.

When he was done telling Matt, done fighting his tears, done tasting ash on his tongue, he dared to meet Matt’s eyes - eyes that were wide and awed and brown and warm.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Matt took a deep breath and Neil waited. “Your mom got shot, you drove the getaway car, you burned the car and her body, and then buried her fucking bones on the beach and just…kept on? Like you literally held your mother’s bones in your hands?”

Neil just nodded. “Well when you say it like that…”

“How else is there to say it?! My god, Neil...” He stared at him for a few more moments and seemingly, when Neil felt like he couldn’t take it, Matt whispered, “You’re such a fucking hard mother fucker.” Then breathed a breath of a laugh. Neil glanced up at him. Matt continued, “I’m a little scared. Not gonna lie. Like if someone kills me, don’t burn my body and hide my bones, okay? I’m super famous. Andrew Minyard would have to do a whole new podcast about what happened to Matt Boyd.”

Neil smiled slowly despite himself.

_This is why Matt’s good._

Despite the pain and memories and the smell of gasoline and fire and salt and blood and brine and _all of it_ , he smiled a small smile.

Wetting his lips, he eventually nodded and felt _something_ lift from his chest. “Matt, I swear to you, if you’re killed I will leave your body here to be found by your neighbors when you start smelling up the joint. Sound good?”

Matt feigned a relieved sigh. “Perfect, thank you. You’re a good friend.”

_Friend._

They stared at each other seriously for a second before both their faces broke into laughter. It felt good.

-

Neil still dreamed of fire that night.

-

On Thursday, Neil knew something had happened.

He relied on Matt for Red Rabbits related news, mostly because he knew Matt would tell him and it saved him the dread that came along with checking it himself.

But something happened.

And Matt didn’t show him. Not until they were back from the stadium that night.

Sighing, Neil flopped on the couch and decided he couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” he finally asked. “What happened now?”

Matt shrugged, nonchalant. “Nothing new... Just thought you might want to see this.” Matt had a frown tugging down on his perpetually smiling lips. He sat beside him and removed his phone from his pocket. Thumbing through _very_ briefly, he mumbled, “That Ashleigh girl wrote a whole post about you…”

“She _what_?” Neil grabbed Matt’s phone out of his hand. They’d only read the ask she sent before. He had it opened on her post. It was long and Neil started to read, feeling himself getting paler every second.

_No no no no no nononononono_

“ _’Did he call me sexy?’_ Jesus Christ she’s still an idiot -”

She’d gone to the cops.

_The fucking cops-_

She’d gone to his apartment.

_My fucking apartment -_

She’d contacted the podcast.

 _Stupid fucking Andrew mother fucking_ **_Minyard_ **.

Neil threw the phone down in disgust. It wasn’t fear running through his veins. No, he was pissed all over again. Standing up, he put his hands on his hips and he was the one that started pacing this time.

“So, she thinks we’re _fucking_ friends and decides to _fucking_ contact everyone under the _fucking_ sun to try and track me the _fuck_ down?!” he scoffed. “Suspecting I’m…who I am?! Did she not think that _maybe_ the reason I _fucking_ ran so _fucking_ quickly was because I didn’t want to be _fucking_ found?” he threw his hands up, “She’s a _fucking_ genius.” Then crossed them tightly over his chest and felt very much like a petulant child.

_I don’t care._

_Why can’t anyone just leave me the_ **_fuck_ ** _alone?!_

Matt shrugged. “I don’t know, man... Maybe she was just worried...? Seems like her intentions are…mostly good?”

_Mostly good, my ass._

Neil stopped pacing and put his hands on his face. Tilting his head back towards the ceiling, he groaned loudly and with it, felt some of the tension leave his body. It felt good. Good _enough_ at least to be able to say, “She’s going to tell him everything. She’s going to give him all sorts of information on me that _just happened_ , Matt. He’s one place away from New York with this.”

Like all of his energy had been leached from his body, he sunk back down into the couch. He felt rather than saw Matt turn towards him.

“Yeah...” Matt said slowly, “but still. She doesn’t know where you are _now_.”

_Right._

“No,” Neil said. “She doesn’t. But she’ll give him the name Neil Josten. How long do you think it’ll take him to track me with that?” He turned his head and stared at his big ~~_stupid_ ~~ _friend._

“With just a name? And zero online presence? A minute. He’d have to have like…federal connections to track you. All he’d really be able to look for is where you work through the IRS if it’s reported.”

“And what if he does?”

Matt leveled him with a _look._ “He doesn’t.”

Neil shook out his hands and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Maybe I should contact her...” he mused. “He hasn’t talked to her yet... Maybe I can get a hold of her and tell her to shut her fucking mouth.”

“You really think that would help?” Matt asked, skeptical.

_No._

“Probably not,” Neil admitted.

Matt chewed his lip for a minute before speaking. “This is going to sound crazy.”

“Crazier than the shit I’ve told you the past few weeks?”

“Maybe?”

Neil sighed. “What is it?”

“What if you just…contacted Andrew? What if you just talked to him and explained it. He really does seem like he wants to help. Maybe if you just told him what kind of shit-“

**_NO._ **

“I can’t,” Neil said, getting up and he turned his back on Matt.

 _Absolfuckinglutely_ **_not._ **

Neil headed for his room.

“Why?” Matt called after him.

Stopping in his tracks, he heard that question bounce around in his head over and over, louder and louder. He spoke just to shut it up. “I just…can’t. It’ll only make things worse. He could sell me out. _She_ could sell me out.” He turned his head so he was barely looking over his shoulder. “You’re the only one I trust right now.”

He locked himself in his room.

-

On Friday, Neil finally reached his breaking point. He _hadn’t_ seen the post Andrew made underneath Ashleigh’s, _absolutely, positively, hadn’t_ read what he said about people giving him shit for not following up with her. And as he _most definitely didn’t_ read it, as he _didn’t feel the fucking frustration and stress and maybe even a little desperation_ , he knew.

Andrew had found something in California.

_‘I’m in California right now. I’m trying really hard here to compartmentalize the things I’m learning and use it to move forward. Figuring this out one way or the other will help me to weed through what’s real and what is not regarding these sorts of emails.’_

Neil felt sick.

“He found her,” he whispered to Matt, when he had finished ~~_not_ ~~ reading.

“Found who? Ashleigh Miller?”

Neil shook his head. ~~_Worse_ ~~ **_._ ** “No. My mother. I don’t know how, but he found her. He knows she’s dead. That’s why he’s saying figuring it out will help him weed through the tips. Any of them that say my mother after 2010 will be false. _Fuck_.”

_FUCK._

Matt came around the kitchen counter to sit next to Neil at the bar. “So what does this mean? It still doesn’t lead him here, does it?”

“Not directly, but what if someone here has sent in a tip Matt? Of me traveling alone? What if I’ve been recognized? He found my mother’s _bones_ . He’s going to put it out there. There’ll be an investigation. He’s going to tell everyone Mary Wesninski is dead and her bones were burned and the search will get even crazier and they’ll display pictures of _her_ on the news and-“

Neil jumped out of the chair and ran his hands through his hair. He could feel his fingers going numb. They were starting to shake. It was spreading up his arms and to his chest - he couldn’t feel his lips.

“Hey,” Matt said, coming to stand next to him and folding him into his chest. “We’re not doing this right now, okay? We’re not panicking. Let’s talk about this.”

Neil just nodded into Matt’s chest and let the vibration of his deep voice fill his head as the soft warmth of Sir’s body and the steady thrum of her purring wrapped around his legs.

“Alright...” Matt whispered, one hand at the back of his head and the other firmly between his shoulder blades. “I know you don’t want to... I know you _really_ don’t want to... But, I think you should contact Andrew. I really think he’ll listen to you, if you tell him.”

_No. I can’t-_

Neil started to shake his head, but Matt squeezed tighter. “Listen to me, will you? You don’t even have to talk to him directly. We’ll get his number. You can text him - block your number. Or fuck, I’ll fucking call him and tell him to back the fuck up before I punt his pint-sized ass into next year.”

Neil let out a choked laugh at that. “No, I think that’d make things worse.” He gripped onto Matt’s shirt tighter.

“That’s it...” His hand rubbed small circles into Neil’s back. “Then let’s get his number. We don’t even have to use it right away, okay? But let’s get it, just in case.”

It took several moments for Neil to gather himself before he pulled away and sat back down, nodding. When he felt strong enough, he asked, “How would we even get it? I don’t want to send anything through the website or the email. I want to talk directly to him, if I decide to do this. I don’t want anyone else to see it.”

Matt just grinned, and Neil thought how inappropriate that grin was at this moment when his lips were still numb... But also how _welcome._

“I have Kevin Day’s number,” Matt reminded him.

_Oh._

“They know each other. He’s bound to have Andrew’s. I never gave him that interview he wanted. Leave it to me.” Matt reached for his phone and Neil took it from him.

_No-_

“No,” Neil said quickly. “Let me call him.”

Matt raised a brow, “Why? That seems…counterproductive for staying hidden.”

Neil willed his hands to stop shaking with a few deep breaths as he shook his head, “It’ll have a bigger impact if it’s me. He escaped the Moriyamas. He’s not going to tell anyone.” Neil searched through Matt’s contacts before finding the one that read **Kevin Day.** He mumbled, “Besides, it’ll be a nice reminder to keep my name out of his mouth.”

Matt only looked at Neil for another moment, before leaning his hip against the counter. “Okay...”

Neil inhaled one deep breath.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_You can do this, Nathaniel._

He hit the call button before he could talk himself out of it. Kevin picked up on the second ring.

 _‘Matt!’_ he said, sounding excited. His voice was deep and familiar in only the sense that Neil’s seen him so many times on TV... No hint of the boy that once was left behind. _‘I’m so glad you called! I’d love to still do that interview-‘_

“It’s not Matt,” Neil interrupted. Kevin stopped talked and breathed into the confused silence.

 _‘Oh, I’m sorry. This is the number I have in my phone for Matt Boyd. Is this his manager or…?_ ’

Neil took a deep breath and steeled himself.

_You can do this._

He looked up towards Matt’s face for strength.

_Good enough._

“This is Nathaniel Wesninski. I need you to give me Andrew Minyard’s number.” Neil was _not_ going to puke.  

_‘Nath… is this a fucking joke? Who is this? Did Andrew put you up to this?’_

_Of fucking course._

Neil snorted. “Wow, that Andrew sounds like a real asshole.” He didn’t give Kevin a moment to respond, “Listen to what I’m saying. This is Nathaniel Wesninski. Andrew is treading dangerously close and I need to get to him before he says something on the air that he shouldn’t.”

_‘I…how do I even know this is Nathaniel? How do I even know this isn’t Riko or someone fucking with me?’_

Neil squeezed the phone. He didn’t really have a reason to be mad at Kevin. He hadn’t seen him since he was five years old. It wasn’t like he was even involved in the podcast - not _really_. But... he still couldn’t stamp down the bit of anger that came boiling up at Riko’s name.

“Okay, Kev,” Neil said, using the nickname he remembered from school - the nickname _he_ used and felt like one of the big kids from just being able to. “How about this?” He took a shallow breath. _Good enough._ “When I was finally told I could play exy at Raven Academy with the big kids - when I finally got to put the uniform on and I walked on court that first day, do you remember what you said to me?”

Kevin was quiet for a moment. ‘ _Yes_ ,’ he almost whispered, Neil could feel it sitting in the air stretched however many states between them.

He continued, “You said _‘Riko is mean sometimes, but it just means you’re his friend. Don’t cry, okay Nathaniel? Because he’ll just do it more._ ’”

Remembrance, nostalgia, something coated his tongue and he couldn’t tell what it was. Fear and pride and sadness and blood and sweat and excitement and desperation.

 _‘Fuck-’_ Kevin’s voice broke. ‘ _Fuck. Oh my god, Nathaniel - We thought you were dead. Everyone thought you were dead by now and - How the fuck have you survived this long?’_

“By staying _fucking_ hidden, which Andrew is trying to ruin for me. I need his number, Kevin.”

 _‘Yeah, yeah okay fine um-,’_ Kevin started, sounding frazzled and out of place. ‘ _But, you didn’t get this from me, okay? I don’t know how he’ll react, but I’ve been trying to stay out of it.’_

_Stay out of it..._

“Does he know?” Neil asked, before he could stop himself. “That you knew me? Does he know we went to school together.”

Kevin’s silence was all the confirmation Neil needed. _Right._ “Guess you haven’t really been staying out of it then.”

 _‘No - Nathaniel, he figured it out! I didn’t tell him anything! He came to me when he figured it out and I told him what I knew, but he swore to me he wouldn’t put it on the air. He just needed to know what the Moriyamas are capable of,_ ’ Kevin said, desperately.

“Sure Kev,” Neil sighed, suddenly very tired. “Whatever you say. The number, now.”

Kevin gave it to him, and when he was done, right before Neil hung up him, he managed, _‘I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you’re okay.’_

_Sure._

“I hope it helps to ease your guilt.” Neil hung up the phone and stared at the number written on the post-it in front of him.

Matt looked at him expectantly. “That sounded…productive? So, you knew Kevin Day? You went to fucking school with him?”

_Breathe in_

“A lot of kids went to that school, Matt. Kevin is only noteworthy because of his connection to Andrew.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Right. So…you gonna use that?”

Neil looked down at it and crumpled the paper in his hands. “I don’t know yet.”

-

That night, lying in bed, he stared at Andrew’s number. Could he even really do this? Would Andrew actually listen to him? What if he recorded their entire conversation and posted it? Or put up screenshots of his texts?

_Risky, Nathaniel. This is very risky._

**_But I have to do it._ **

Neil bit his lip and stared. It was late. Really late. He couldn’t sleep. Everything was catching up to him now and it was all he could do to keep his word to Matt and his feet firmly in place - to not pick up and run and hide and live his life like a fugitive, like he’d been doing since he was five...

_No._

Since longer. He’d been a prisoner in that house, with his father.

 _What if I stop running? What if I just face this head on and_ **_do_ ** _something to take care of it for once? Instead of hiding and running and lying -_

Neil sat up in bed. He pulled a sleeping Sir into his lap and rubbed her head for luck. She meowed softly, but burrowed into him and he soaked in her warmth for extra strength as he pulled out his phone, turned off his caller ID, and typed in Andrew’s number. He didn’t even realize what he was texting until it was in black and white, staring up at him.

He hit send.

Watched it deliver.

Then closed his eyes against the ensuing panic.

_‘Let California die with her. Don’t put it on the air.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again!!! Kudos and comments always appreciated. We hope you loved this one just as much as we did!
> 
> *** THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS ARE NOT THE END! DONT WORRY! WE DONT KNOW HOW MANY ARE LEFT TILL THEN. SORRY FOR THE CONFUSION!


	14. Phoenix, Arizona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew heads to Arizona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! So, another short(ish?) chapter??? This one... Hah. Okay :3 Well, you'll see ^^  
> We get some fun Ashleigh moments! Annnddd, some other things :) Keep an eye out next week for perhaps another update? Who knows!  
> Thank you all so god damned much for the love on last chapter! Hooollllyyyy shit. We cannot WAIT for your reactions on this one! (and the next one. Oh ho ho good luck with next week ;) )  
> Anyway! That's all from us I think? No CW's. Again, keep up with our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) to stay up to date with all releases and potential hints!  
> This chapter WILL NOT HAVE A TRANSCRIPT. So, if you are interacting with the world, unfortunately, you don't know shit. But! Next week, we will hopefully have something for yall to play with!  
> Anyway, onto the chapter! Thank you again!

“Eat it.”

“No.”

“Andrew, eat it or I swear I’ll pin you and force it down your throat.”

_ Rude. _

He looked towards Renee sadly, letting a frown tug at the corner of his lips.  “You’ve been around me too long. It’s rubbing off. What would your lord and savior say, Walker?”

“He would say he doesn’t want to see one of God’s children starve himself to death just because he’s a stubborn ass. Now, eat it.” She pushed the plate of eggs and bacon closer to him and Andrew sighed.

“Fine. But it’s not for you. It’s for God and Jesus... And Judas, who was only mad because he wanted to fuck Jesus, but Jesus turned him down after months of flirting because he had that thing going with Mary Magdalene.”

Renee raised a brow at him. Andrew shrugged.

“Bedtime stories are fun.”

They sat in another diner in Crescent City, trying to kill time until they needed to board their flight to Phoenix. Andrew needed to eat - he knew he did. After everything that had happened, he’d been so fucking stressed and locked inside his head this week, that he could barely stomach anything. On top of it all, he was running on a scarce few hours of sleep, stretched between several days and it was only getting worse. A new type of anxiety was eating away at his insides and it took up too much room in his stomach for him to get any food into it. 

Perhaps it was anticipation, impatience. Maybe, even though he hated to admit, it was hope. He didn’t  _ fucking _ know. What he  _ did _ know, however, was that it was much lighter, in a sense, than the heavy dread that sat like a weight in his gut from Seattle to here.  _ That _ had been all consuming in a way that he never wanted to feel again.  _ This? _

This. 

He wasn’t completely sure if the man in the picture was Nathaniel, but he felt - 

Those freckles looked familiar. 

Andrew picked up his fork and took a bite of the eggs. They were disgusting, but he gave Renee a big eggy grin just to appease her. She nodded towards him approvingly, before going back to the notes on her phone. 

Andrew dropped his grin, the fork, and forced himself to swallow. The only thing that seemed minorly appetizing on the table was his coffee, sweetened and lightened with whole milk.

It was no fucking Ihop, but

_ It’ll do. _

“So,” Renee started. She set her phone down and pulled her own plate closer towards her. “We’ll get into Phoenix around lunch time. I told Ashleigh we’d call her when we got to the hotel and we could try to set up a meeting then.” She glanced up towards him, “Do you want to try to meet with her today or do you want to just rest and meet with her tomorrow?”

He stared at her blankly and picked up a piece of bacon to nibble.

Renee tried to suppress a smile. “Today it is, then. Is there anything else we need to do in Arizona, besides talking to her? I’ve been keeping Dan updated. I think she’s starting to worry since our plans keep changing and we haven’t made it home.”

Not even bacon could keep his attention. He dropped it and wiped his hands on a napkin as he nodded, “Mother Dan will survive. Tell her we should be home Monday - assuming nothing else comes up. Which it might.” He paused and folded his napkin twice, “You know what? Just tell her we’ll keep her posted.”

“Posted. Got it.” Renee tapped away at her phone.

His own phone rested beside him, face up on the table and with the screen black. Andrew felt an odd sense of disappointment wash over him like a cold rush of water. It’d been that way since last night - since the text from the blocked number - The one that said to  _ ‘Let California die with her’.  _ It was like that since his own subsequent text back, typed away with shaking hands and absolutely no breath:

_ ‘Let California die with who? I’m sorry, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’ _

He didn’t know who it was from, nor did he want to ask just yet. His mind told him to lure them out a bit - keep them on a line and use it to his advantage. He had his suspicions though, all as unlikely as the next. 

~~_There is no next._ ~~

No, there is. It could be multiple people. Like someone from the Moriyama camp. Maybe they’d been tailing Andrew and knew he found the bones or at least something of interest. Maybe they thought it would bring more attention to the case and by proxy, more attention to them.  _ Maybe _ it was even the woman with the red hair - perhaps she worked for them and all together, they were trying to keep it  _ and _ Mary buried.  

Or, it could be someone they had contact with on the west coast. Officer Mike, even. Maybe he was having cold feet now that he realized what they’d found. Maybe he was worried about losing another job, but -  _ No _ . That makes even less sense. He didn’t know they’d found bones, let alone  _ Mary’s... _

But the first thought, the first person that crossed his mind couldn’t  _ possibly _ be  _ Nathaniel _ . How would he know where he was? That he was close? That he found  _ her? _ Something about that thought felt right. 

There was the possibility that... Assuming this tip was legit and those bones  _ did _ belong to Mary, perhaps he deduced that Andrew had found something - purely based on location. Perhaps he was worried that if it was released to the world, the media attention would make hiding harder.  

~~_It can still be Nathaniel’s bones. It’s still a possibility._ ~~

_ No. That doesn’t feel right.  _

The initial text had lifted something off his chest, just as it settled something else on his shoulders. The  _ feeling _ of it sort of confirmed, in a way, Ashleigh’s email. It made their next step hold more weight, like it meant something more than everything they’d already done. 

Andrew knew he was onto something. He felt so fucking close -  _ so. Fucking. Close -  _

_ Come out, come out, little rabbit. _

Maybe Andrew was getting ahead of himself, ahead of the entire endeavor. It would be a lie to say that fantasies about Nathaniel contacting him, talking to him, and finally figuring out what the fuck happened  _ to  _ him swirled in his mind and it was taking a toll. He shouldn’t tolerate that kind of fuckery from himself. He shouldn’t allow himself to sink into his mind and stay with what he wanted to happen, rather than what  _ was.  _

_ Keep your head straight and eyes open.  _

_ Keep searching.  _

He hadn’t received a reply yet. The thought of not getting one was something he couldn’t even process at the moment. So, for now, he kept vigil by his phone - heart leaping every time it lit with a notification. 

-

By the time they landed in Arizona, Andrew was practically vibrating - not only from the plane, but the prospect of  _ Arizona _ . Nonetheless, he determined he needed coffee. Or whiskey. Or coffee with whiskey in it. 

_ Calm down. _

Bee was restless behind his ear. He told her to calm down too. 

They stood to file off the plane with the rest of the passengers. He pulled his phone out and turned it off airplane mode as quickly as he possibly could. His hand shook, his breathing was shallow and he completely ignored Renee behind him as he stared a fucking hole into his screen as he waited for notifications (anything) to come through. 

His phone rang with a notification - just one. 

From a blocked number. 

He tried not to gasp out loud, to not look eager. But, he stared at his phone, the green little box and the  **1 Message** staring up at him. 

_ Buzz, buzz, buzz - _

Bee burned. Someone nudged him in the back. Andrew turned to tell whoever it was to fuck off, when he remembered it was Renee. 

“Line’s moving,” she said, nodding her head towards the people making their way off the plane. Andrew bit back something he’d regret saying and somehow picked his feet up to file off the place - one eye trained in front of him and the other on his phone. 

_ ‘you know exactly what I’m talking about asshole. Think about someone else for once.’ _

Andrew bristled. Think about someone else? That’s all he’d been fucking doing - thinking of nothing but other people since he started this entire god damned thing. Nathaniel, Mary, Kevin, Jean  _ fucking _ Moreau. 

_ Gotta be fucking kidding me. Who’s the fucking asshole now, you fucking - _

“Andrew! Renee!”

Andrew’s eyes flicked up, confused. He hadn’t even really realized they’d made it out of departures, too caught up inside his head and on his phone. Who the fuck...?

_ Oh jesus fucking judas. _

“Is that…” Renee started.

_ Fuck. _

“Yes. Yes, Renee. That’s Ashleigh  _ fucking _ Miller - the nuisance we have the great pleasure of spending the weekend with.” Something bitter coated his tongue. He grimaced and cracked his picky as he pocketed his phone once more. 

Ashleigh wove a hand high in the air to get their attention. She wore a short black skirt and fishnets with... familiar boots...

“Andrew,” Renee said through a giggle, coming in close to his space. “She’s wearing your boots!”

_ She _ was upon them before Andrew could even answer.

“Hey! Oh god, I can’t believe you’re actually here! How was the flight? Have you eaten? Let’s go get your bags-” she pointed towards whatever sign must have been above their heads. “Then we can go!” She was brimming with wide-eyed excitement - dark blue painted lips stretched back from her teeth and black bob swaying against her chin as she looked between the two of them expectantly. 

**_You_ ** _ fucking owe me.  _

Andrew didn’t know who  _ you _ were, but whoever answered thoughts or whatever-the-fuck, fucking owed him big time. 

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he refrained from rubbing at his eyes to try and relieve the tension already building. When he opened his lips, he forced out, “How the fuck are you here? I thought we were meeting you later? How did you even know what flight we were on?”

Ashleigh rolled her eyes at him and didn’t even have the decency to look at least the littlest bit embarrassed. “Well, Renee,” She looked beside him and smiled wide at Renee. He’d wager to bet she was probably fucking smiling back. 

_ Yeah, I bet you’re amused. Kind of fucking friend are you? _

“Ugh.” He groaned. 

Ashleigh continued. “Told me what time your flight got in. So, I figured I’d just wait here until I saw you and I thought we could have lunch! I have a car -” she pointed a thumb over her shoulder, “so you don’t have to rent or take a cab. No sense in wasting money, carpool, keep the world green, you know.” She fucking  _ winked _ and he rolled his neck on his shoulders. 

Right as he opened his mouth to say something particularly scathing, Renee cut him off. “Thank you, Ashleigh. That was really thoughtful. We were going to go to the hotel to rest first-”

“No,” Andrew cut her off. “It’s fine. The quicker we get this done, the better.” He couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but, “lead the way.” He wanted this done and filed away so he could get back home to his bed and his cat and his fucking hookup because  _ he could really use the fucking stress relief right fucking  _ **_now._ **

Ashleigh  _ clapped _ her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s get your ba-”

“This is it,” Andrew indicated to his and Renee’s carry-ons. “We’re journalists, we travel light. Let’s go.”

Ashleigh, thankfully, didn’t say another word. Instead, she just nodded with a small  _ ohhh... _ before turning around and leading them out of the airport. 

The heat was scathing and Andrew resented his fucking color choice. It was even hotter in her dark green  _ Prius _ with stickers scattered about the back bumper and windshield, ranging from things like:

_ Stay out of the Forest! _

_ In a cult? Call your Dad! _

_ SSDGM _

_ Vegan! _

_ Hail Yourselves! _

_ Check Please! _

_ We gotta -  _ **_NERD ALERT!_ **

and

_ Valar Morghulis  _

He couldn’t roll his eyes eyes far back enough. 

~~_Valar Dohaeris - fuck! Shut up._ ~~

He hated her even more. 

Shockingly, he didn’t snatch her keys out of her hands and claim the car to drive himself. Instead, he  **surprisingly** fit himself into the backseat and automatically pulled his phone out of his pocket to stare at again. Luckily, Ashleigh kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way to wherever the fuck they were going. He barely heard her and Renee kept up conversation anyway.

He honestly didn’t think he could focus if he tried. No - He was busy, mind racing as he stared at the last message. Chewing on his lip ring, he closed his eyes and tried to come up with a response. He needed to figure out who the fuck this was ~~_you know who_~~. He worried if he pushed too hard right away, they’d stop communicating all together and if this was who he thought **_knew_** it was, that was a likely possibility. He had to be careful. 

_ ‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I can promise you, as charming as I find myself, I do occasionally think of other people. I’m going to need a little more to go on, however, if I’m going to consider your request.’ _

Andrew hit send and watched it pop up on his screen, green and vivid and real.

_ This is contact. _

With a deep breath, he went back to the other texts he’d received before they lifted off from California. Dan was bothering him for the audio notes and he was trying to figure out how to ward her off - tell her they would be delayed. He’s already done this several times before, but there was no way... Not now - not when things were so  _ gray. _

Besides. He didn’t know who this was  ~~_stop fooling yourself_ ~~ , but if there is a good reason for him to not release their findings about the remains on the beach, then he wouldn’t do it. Therefore, Mother Dan would just have to wait. 

“We’re here!” Ashleigh sang, pulling into a small parking lot outside a clearly niche establishment. There was a glowing sign in curling letters at the top reading  **_The Grind_ ** , outside seating with two customers on their laptops, and the smell of coffee practically permeating through the car windows.

“This is where I work,” Ashleigh continued - maybe saying words between, Andrew didn’t fucking know. “We can get free food as long as CBBWTB is working.” 

Looking down at his phone one last time, his mind finally pushed back all the sassy retorts he could’ve given, and realized what she said. CBBWTB,  _ Cute Barista Boy With The Biceps _ from that ridiculous blogpost. 

_ Ugh. _

Renee gave a short laugh and Andrew had to get himself out of that car asap. How Renee managed to live her life so pleasant, find the good in stupidly annoying people, Andrew would never understand. 

Closing the door behind him, he followed behind the two - who he just realized were polar opposites. Renee with her bobbed, white, rainbow tipped hair and long skirts, then Ashleigh with her black bob and mini skirt. If he were in a better mood, perhaps he would have laughed. Instead, he took solace in the thought that answers were soon to come - as well as coffee. 

The inside of the place was exactly what one would expect. Colored in whites and warm browns, there were fake ‘rusting’ pipes decorating the place and subway tile lining the walls. A few customers milled around, creating a light chatter that wasn’t wholly unpleasant and several comfortable looking booths tucked on one side of the cafe. 

Andrew made for the secluded one in the back corner and sat facing the door. Renee slid in beside him and Ashleigh smiled far too widely for both her wardrobe and his tolerance as she planted herself across from them both. Twisting around in her seat, she waved black-tipped nails (not black enough. Clearly not  _ Essie Licorice _ ) towards the guy near the front counter. He nodded at her and made his way over. 

“Do we need to go up to order?” Renee asked.

“No, no,” Ashleigh lowered her voice and leaned forward. “This is CBBTWB, aka Will. He’ll get us what we need.” She glanced over her shoulder again to make sure he was still far enough away. “He’s totally into me,” she smirked, “He’s doing this whole aloof thing, but the looks I get...” She fanned her face with a hand. 

Andrew glared at Renee. 

_ This was a bad idea.  _

“Hey, Ash,” The ~~CBBWTB~~ _Will_ said as he got to their table. He glanced toward Renee and Andrew. 

“Hey, you,” Ashleigh replied, squeezing his wrist with that too-big smile, before dropping her hand to gesture towards them. “This is Andrew and Renee, from the podcast I’ve been telling you about? Andrew, Renee, this is Will.”

Will looked back at them and Andrew had to give Ashleigh at least a bit of credit here.  _ Will _ was indeed a cute barista boy with biceps - whose gaze was lingering on Andrew’s for a beat too long. Andrew raised a brow at him and Will gave a sly smile in return. 

_ Oh... Huh. _

~~_No._ ~~

Andrew shook his head and broke eye contact. 

_ No time, Minyard. _

“Nice to meet you,” said Renee, and Andrew knew she didn’t miss that look. 

“Will, do you mind bringing us some food please? We can go up front and order if you’re too busy,” Ashleigh batted her  _ prius-green _ eyelashes at him and Andrew was astounded at the cluelessness. 

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” He put his weight on one leg and looked to Andrew first. “What can I get you?”

_ Bad, Will. _

~~_No. Time. Minyard._ ~~

Reeling himself back from anything he could potentially say or do, he gave his order and while the others placed theirs, he removed his backpack and dug for his recorder. 

“See what I mean?” Ashleigh asked when Will was gone. “The tension kills me sometimes,” she whimpered. 

Andrew stopped digging and looked up at her, then at Renee who was equally as confused, then back at Ashleigh.

“Sure, Jan,” he said, then continued his search. One he finally found it, he looked up to see Ashleigh’s face, clearly confused and he didn’t bother giving her a chance to speak or question it. 

“Do you mind if we record?” he asked, setting the recorder in the middle of the table. 

Pulling her chin back, he could practically see the question computing in her head before she shook her head. “No, of course not! Honestly, I’m just so glad you’re doing what you’re doing. I’ve been so worried about him,” the concern was, in fact, swimming in her eyes. He believed her. This wasn’t, perhaps, one of those grabs for clout/attention. “I don’t know if he’s in trouble or what, but he was a good guy. Super quiet, but he was  _ good _ . I hope you can find him and help him...”

Renee smiled gently. “We hope so, too. Thank you for sending us the info and we’re sorry it took us so long to get to it. As you can probably tell,” She motioned between herself and him. “We’ve been extremely busy trying to make headway. So thank you, really. Yours is the most recent sighting we’ve heard, so hopefully we’ll gain some good insight.”

Andrew hummed non-committedly and checked his phone again, before placing it face up on the table beside him where he could see it. 

Will came back with their food and drinks and turned his hand just so when Andrew took his glass, their fingers brushed. He heard Renee try to cover a giggle with a cough and he shot her a look. After all, he couldn’t help how incredibly attractive he was after days of practically no sleep, very little food, and anxiety under his belt. 

“Eat first,” Andrew said. “Then we’ll start.”

He hated trying to eat during interviews. It was annoying concentrating on two things at once and the feedback noise was awful. That - and it broke the ice, usually. 

_ Not like Ashleigh needed it. _

As Renee and Ashleigh ate, Andrew picked at a roast beef sandwich. His stomach and anxiety apparently decided that the few mouthfuls of egg he had earlier today was clearly enough and he didn’t want to push it. Not now. Not when he was standing at the edge of  _ answers _ . 

In the meantime, he tapped the screen on his phone every few minutes, making more progress on his coffee during that time. It was nearly finished when Renee finally asked, “Are you expecting a call?” She glanced down at his notification-less screen. “I told Dan I’d keep her updated so she wouldn’t bug you.”

“Dan Wilds, right?” Ashleigh cut in. “It’s so weird being here with you guys after following online. Granted, I was late to the party but Seth made my day after several nights of sleeplessness over... well, everything. Like, his taste in music is exactly my taste. It’s like we were crafted by the same person, you know?”

_ Ugh. _

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Andrew said. Cut from the same cloth, those two. Insanely annoying with astonishingly good taste in music. And boots. And piercings because she had a septum that was like... two hoops and he wanted to ask her where she got it, but he didn’t want her to think he was  _ interested _ . 

“Okay.” He’d had enough. “Let’s get this going,” he said, shoving his plate aside and pulling out his moleskine. Reaching over, he turned on the recorder and glanced up at Ashleigh to make sure she was ready. When she took one last sip of her coffee, she nodded and cleared her throat. 

[ Record On ]

“Give us your name and spell it.”

She did. 

_ A s h l e i g h, fucking ridiculous.  _

He moved on.

“We know most of your story from your post, but give us a synopsis. Let’s start with NJ,” he looked over his notes unnecessarily, clicking his purple pen. “What does NJ stand for?”

Andrew was prepared for any number of responses. If CBBWTB was anything to go by, then did it stand for Nice Jeans? New Job? Not Joking? Neurotic Jumper?

“Neil Josten,” Ashleigh said instead. “He went by Neil Josten.”

_ Neil Josten, Neil Josten, Neil Josten. _

Andrew felt, rather than heard, himself go quiet. He stared down at his notebook, not really seeing anything. Renee cleared her throat and Andrew inhaled a quick breath as he looked up to find Ashleigh looking at him expectantly. 

_ Right. _

“Tell us about the time you had contact with... Neil.”

So, Ashleigh did. Most of what she told them, they already knew from her post. They worked together at the bookstore; he was polite, but quiet; did his work well; went home at the end of the day. She never saw him outside of their hours besides the one time he walked her home. He liked the sports section of the store, didn’t entertain her murdernerd talk.

_ Sane, at least _ . 

“You said you went to his apartment,” Andrew tapped the bullet he’d made the night before once. “Were you ever able to find anything there?”

She shook her head and put her chin on her hand. “The landlord said Neil changed the locks.” Her shoulders shrugged. 

_ Changed his locks? Why would someone do that? _

“His lease was almost up when he bolted, but I guess it’s an auto renew thing? You know, you just continue month to month until you sign something saying you’re not renewing?” He could see the invisible,  _ I guess _ , fly past her eyes. “I mean, I guess since he already paid, the landlord wasn’t fussed about it. To be honest, he’s kind of a slumlord anyway.” She dropped her hand to the table with a slap. “I don’t think he cares what his tenants are doing, so long as he has to deal with them as little as possible.”

_ Interesting... _

Andrew chewed on the end of his pen for a moment. “Can you show us? His apartment, I mean.”

Ashleigh shrugged, but her face scrunched up for a moment. “I mean, sure - but no one can get in. The landlord doesn’t have a key that works.”

“I know, I’d still like to see.”

Ashleigh didn’t even take a moment to consider. She just shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “It’ll have to be tomorrow, if that’s okay? My shift here starts soon and I’m closing.” She pointed behind herself towards the door. “I can take you to your hotel now and pick you up tomorrow?”

Andrew almost said they’d walk, having no idea how far or where the fuck it was, but Renee agreed gratefully for him - like usual. 

Turns out, the walk would’ve been miserable in this fucking Arizona heat, so Andrew didn’t complain. 

-

Once they were safely ensconced in Renee’s room after Andrew dropped his things in his, he was able to finally relax at least a bit. 

There were no new notifications on his phone, but there was something else that lifted itself from his anxiety - and it was that Andrew believed Ashleigh. He believed that the guy she knew was Nathaniel. Which meant...  they were on the right path. He was making progress - getting closer and closer. And if  _ she _ was right, which by proxy, meant that  _ he  _ was - it would mean that the bones were in fact Mary and the slight possibility that he was  _ wrong _ , would go away.  

However, what would be left in its place would be the thought that Nathaniel had to burn his own mother's body, walk off that beach alone and... whatever else after that. He had to swallow hard to force the lump in his throat back down. 

Shaking his head to himself, he sunk deep into her bed that he’d collapsed into the moment he entered the room. He felt Renee’s eyes on him and tried to ignore her as he removed his glasses and pressed his fingers in the corners of his eyes. 

“You believe her,” Renee finally spoke, disturbing the silence. It wasn’t a question.

Inhaling a deep breath, he dropped his hands and wiped his glasses on his shirt. With a slow nod, he murmured, “I do. Her story makes sense. She’s annoying, but she doesn’t seem like a liar.”

“You only think she’s annoying because she’s you in female form... With a better attitude. “

He flicked his eyes up towards her and sat up in bed, “Excuse me?”

_ Traitor. _

Renee’s lip twitched. “She’s literally you, in style anyway.” That twitch turned into a smirk. “I can’t believe she bought your boots...” She pressed her lips together and when she couldn’t hold it in any longer, let out a laugh. Andrew rolled his eyes and laid back down. 

And then sat back up.

Because Renee was right. 

He found Ashleigh annoying because he found everyone, save a very few select people, annoying. But, her style was, in fact, fantastic... Andrew thought for a moment that this would be what having a little sister would be like - irritating and copying him. 

_ Ugh. _

Renee said lightly, “Told you. She looks great though, so don’t feel bad.”

“If she’s taking cues from me, of course, she looks great,” he mumbled. “Anyway, that has nothing to do with anything. What does have to do with  _ something _ , is that tomorrow we’ll go see the apartment and we’ll see what we can find there. Maybe a hint of where he went after he left...”

Renee’s brow furrowed. “How are we going...”

Andrew raised a brow at her.

“You’re going to pick the locks.”

_ Ding, ding, ding _

“I’m going to pick the locks,” he agreed, then swung his legs over the side of the bed before standing. “I’m going to go take a shower. Look and see what’s around for food.

-

That night, as Andrew lay in his uncomfortable hotel bed, not sleeping, his phone buzzed, Bee burned to life, and his heartbeat doubled. 

He hadn’t heard back since he sent his last text. Whoever this was, they were taking their sweet time - keeping Andrew on the hook. 

_ ‘Maybe I would tell you more, if I wasn’t sure you’d put it out for the world to see. Some of us don’t crave attention. Also, your opinion of yourself is so inflated. I don’t know how you’ve managed not floating away.” _

The sound that left him nearly started him. He  _ laughed _ at that. The  _ sass _ on this person. He started to type back before he thought twice. 

_ Would it seem too eager? _

He gave himself a look he couldn’t see, because what the fuck was this? A Grindr date? Of course, he was fucking eager. 

Pressing his shoulder to his tattoo, Andrew stared at the screen, trying to think of something to say - some way to assure whoever this was that he wasn't going to put any information out if it was important not to - if it put him closer to finding Nathaniel.

So, with slow fingers at first, that grew faster as he typed out honestly:

_ ‘I don’t know who you are, but I can promise you, that I wouldn’t put out what we found, if someone gave me good reason not to. I don’t break my promises. You can always call and we can have a nice little chat about it, if you want. I’m in Arizona now, but we can meet when I’m done here.’ _

Andrew hit send and slept with his phone under the pillow. 

-

“Here we are,” Ashleigh said. She wore black high-waisted shorts and dark green patent leather platform pumps today, complete with thigh highs and a crop top. Andrew sighed internally. He would really love a pair of dark green patent leather docs. 

_ Anyway.  _

He stepped up to the door, apartment number 10, and pulled off a piece of paper letting  _ Neil Josten _ know his rent was late. Folding the paper up, he slipped it into his bag and while there, pulled out a tension wrench and a pick. Leaning forward, he got to work.

Ashleigh giggled nervously, “ _ Oh my fucking god.” _

Renee just sighed. “Where do you even get those? Did you take that on the plane? Do you carry them everywhere we go? I’ve seen you do this before, so why does it still surprise me?”

Andrew heard a click and stood, pushing the door open slowly. “I don’t know, Renee. But by now, you should be impressed by my prowess.”

“ _ I’m _ impressed,” said Ashleigh, coming up behind him. “That was so fucking  _ rad _ .”

_ Ughhhh _

“Yes, I learned how to do it to impress the ladies,” he mumbled, standing in the doorway with his eyes trained on the light filtering in through the far window. Dust danced in the air. 

Breaking his gaze away, he looked to the confusion written plainly across her face. “Aren’t you gay...?”

“Incredibly. Let’s do this quickly.” 

He stepped aside to let all three in, before closing the door behind them. When the door clicked, it practically echoed in the hollowed emptiness. He breathed shallowly, only because he felt like he couldn’t get in anything deeper, before turning around and nodding his head to the silent thoughts in his head. 

The apartment was small. There was a kitchenette to the right and the living room straight ahead. He walked slowly, the dirty carpet underfoot muffling his steps, into the living room. The air around him smelled just as empty as the place felt - like air hadn’t been run in a while or a window hadn’t been cracked open. He was tempted to do something about it, but just stood in the center of the room, looking around. Turning slowly, he tried to take in everything he could: a few cabinets in the kitchen with necessary appliances, dishes long dry in the rack; there was no tv, some magazines and books lay on a small coffee table. Walking slowly towards them, the first thing he touched left a thin streak of cleared dust behind. Swallowing hard, he ignored it and thumbed through to find they were all exy related. Besides the magazines was an old cup of coffee that had gone moldy - like he’d left it there one morning and never came back.

_ Like everything else. _

Renee made her way down the short hallway and Andrew followed her. There was a small, but clean bathroom to the right, then a small and messy bedroom to the left. Blankets were tossed around on the bed and a few clothes were left on the floor. Andrew walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. A couple of pens, sudoku books... Andrew filed away the details. 

_ He likes math games. Coffee wasn’t congealed so he takes it with no sugar. Exy fan. _

Andrew stood straight to look around the room and into the open closet. When he pulled back the door, he found that it was mostly bare  ~~_no words on the walls_ ~~ ~~.~~ There was an exy racquet that looked a little banged up in one corner, and a duffle bag that looked old and outdated as fuck in the other. A box lie on the top shelf. Andrew could barely see it, it was shoved so far back into a corner. But, he could see the corner sticking over the lip of the shelf and he used the stool he found in the room to get to it.

_ Short boy solidarity. _

Pulling it down, he found that it was an old shoe box. Setting it on the bed, he lifted the lid and found papers upon papers stacked inside. Rifling through, he found an ID, a passport, drivers license, even a social security card, and birth certificate. Andrew looked at the drivers’ license and his breath caught. Bee stuttered back to life and he relished, this time, in her  _ buzz _ and her  _ burn _ . 

_ It’s him. _

Brown hair, brown eyes, but Andrew could tell... The name read Chase Rowan.

“You don’t look like a Chase,” he mumbled to himself. 

“What?” Renee asked. He didn’t realize she’d come up behind him. He silently lifted the ID for her to see. 

“Oh...” She whispered. “That’s definitely him...” A moment of silence stretched as she looked closer, then down to the box. “I wonder why he wouldn’t have this somewhere more secure than a shoe box?”

Andrew froze.

_ Buzz - _

_ No. _

He dropped the ID like it had burned him, then shoved the box back into the closet. 

“Andrew?” Renee asked, “What’s wrong?”

“ _ This- _ ” he shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he murmured, rubbing his hands on his jeans like he could wipe the feeling away. “This isn’t okay -” he turned around to face her. “What are we doing? Why are we going through his things...? This shit is private and I’m just pawing through it like its nothing -”

“You’re looking for answers, Andrew...” she said slowly. “You’re trying to see if this could lead you to the next location. You’re trying to help.”

He cracked his picky, then pushed his glasses up on his head to rub his eyes. 

_ No. No this is wrong. This isn't the way-  _

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbled, already heading out of the room. “I don’t want to do it this way.” Renee nodded and he heard her follow him out of the room, closing the bedroom door quietly with a click behind them. 

He found Ashleigh standing in the kitchen, flipping through one of the abandoned magazines. She looked up when she heard them come in. “Find anything?” Her brows rose and her back straightened. 

Andrew walked into the kitchen, hoping to find a bottle of water or something to try and keep him from throwing up his breakfast. “No,” he managed through his teeth, reaching for the handle. 

_ What...? _

He stopped before he could get it open. There was a 6x4 postcard on the fridge. Andrew took it down slowly, his heart pounding so hard against his chest, he could feel it rattle his ribs. On the front of it was a picture of the Grand Canyon with the words  _ Wish You Were Here  _ scrawled over it. The edges were bent and worn, two corners ripped off completely. Lines of demarcation covered the postcard from being folded too many times. There was a brown spot that looked like it could be blood splattered under the  _ ‘ _ **_W_ ** _ ’  _ in  _ Wish. _ He flipped the card over and read the back, then slipped it into his bag before Ashleigh or Renee could notice. 

Just then, his phone buzzed, startling him so hard that his heart felt like it could burst. Closing his eyes tight, he counted to three, before he pulled it out of his pocket. 

_ ‘Of course you’re in Arizona. Tell Ashleigh she’s an idiot.’ _

“Ashleigh,” Andrew said quietly, still staring at his phone. 

“Yeah?” she replied, turning from Renee to him. He looked up at her and her face fell. He must look insane. 

“You’re an idiot.”

_ “Andrew,” _ Renee scolded. 

Another text pinged on his phone. 

‘ _ And I still don’t trust you. I’ll call. We can talk, if it’ll keep you from putting what you found on the air. I’ll call when I think I can stand to talk to you without throwing my fucking phone through a window. I’m fond of this one.’ _

Andrew choked a laugh and Renee’s stern expression changed to one of concern. “Hey - Everything okay?”

Andrew tapped his phone against the palm of his hand and nodded to the thoughts inside his head, before nodding up at her. His tongue played with his lip ring, before he looked back down at his phone and pulled up Allison’s number. He shot her a quick text and when he hit send, he finally answered. “Yes. We’re leaving.” He then directed his attention to Ashleigh, who looked minorly hurt. 

_ God damnit. _

“You’re-” he forced out. “Not completely an idiot. Sorry. Give us a ride back to the hotel. We have everything we need from you. Thank you.”

_ Good job, Andrew. Pat on the back. _

-

“The fuck do you need $900 for?” There was music playing in the background. Andrew didn’t know if Allison was in the studio or if she was back in Miami. Both sounded the same. 

“Super top secret shit, Reynolds,” he replied, sitting at the crappy hotel bar. He told Renee to go upstairs while he got something to drink. The whiskey was shit, but he finished it anyway. Running his finger around the rim, he heard the music quiet down as she either told someone to quiet it, or found another room. 

“Am I privy to what this ‘super top secret shit’, is?”

“No.”

There was a beat of silence. “Does Renee know?”

Andrew debated lying, but the  _ something _ that was obviously between those two, would probably result in Reynolds figuring out he was lying and whatever would come from that, he didn’t know. So, instead, he replied, “Nope.” Emphasis on the ‘p’. 

Another stretch of silence. He could practically see Allison squinting at her phone, tilting her head side to side as she debated. Finally, she responded, “Whatever. You need my credit card number or something?”

“Yep.” Another emphasis. 

The bartender raised a brow at him and Andrew slid his glass over. 

Once she was finished reading off the number, security code, and expiration, he stored the information away in the back of his head and hung up with a promise that it was something important and definitely not diabolical. 

_ It wasn’t. _

Next, he removed the notice that was tacked up on ~~Neil Josten’s~~ _Nathaniel’s_ door, and called the landlord. 

_ Those were his things. Nathaniel’s. No one should go rifling through them but him. _

-

That afternoon, Andrew finally found his way to his room. 

He felt... not good, persé, but better. His invasion of privacy still lingered like a film on his skin, but knowing that no one else would do as he had, made him feel a bit better. At least now, if Nathaniel wanted to go back, he could. Everything would remain safe. 

_ Hopefully _ . 

Now, it was onto other things... bigger things. 

Andrew paced back and forth. When he got in he had sent Renee a text to let her know that he was fine, but otherwise was left to his own devices. With his phone held tightly in his hand, he waited, staring holes into both sides of the room as he turned his back from one to the other while he paced - while he  _ waited. _

What if he didn’t call? What if Andrew was completely wrong? What if it  _ wasn’t _ him and everything was just some elaborate joke and Andrew was getting his hopes up for no reason?

_ Relax. Breathe. _

He sat on the bed and pulled out the postcard. Bee had been quiet, but her wings burned and there was a soft buzz that vibrated in his ear. Pressing his shoulder to it, he flipped the card over and read it again - ran a finger over the potential bloodspot. 

Unlocking his phone, he checked a few things, then abruptly stood. Without a second thought, he made his way over to Renee’s room and knocked on the door. 

She answered, already dressed - like she’d been expecting him.

“We’re going to the Grand Canyon.” 

“Alright.”

-

One hour and one shitty rental car later, they were on their way. 

The Grand Canyon was about a three and a half hour drive from Phoenix - which was probably good for Andrew. It allowed him to center himself a bit, get his mind in check. It also helped him get a few things out, explain his plan and well, everything. So, he talked and Renee nodded and she listened. 

“So,” she finally said. “The Grand Canyon?”

Andrew pulled the postcard from his pocket and handed it to her. She ran her finger across the front, then turned it over and read the back. Sighing heavily, she nodded and said, “Ah... Well, this makes much more sense now.”

Chewing on his lip ring, he tilted it back and forth and said, “I think it’s him, Renee... That’s been texting me. I really think it’s him. He said he would call me and - what do I even say?” He gripped the wheel harder than necessary, his eyes scanning signs to lead him to where he  _ needed _ to go. 

“Andrew,” she started. “You’ve been thinking about this moment for months. Just... just tell him the truth. That you want to help - tell him you want justice for his mother. For him, too.”

Andrew went quiet as they approached their destination. 

About twenty minutes, and a $35 entrance fee paid with Reynold’s money later, they pulled up on the South Rim and got out of the car. Together, they made their way in silence to the closest viewing point and Andrew? He stood alone - Renee right beside him, tourists milling about - he was  _ alone. _

The sun was sinking in the sky, temperature dropping as the blue above darkened to something deeper, somehow  _ brighter _ , more vivid. The canyon began to disappear into shadows.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and bee vibrated with it. 

_ Buzz, buzz, buzz _

Pulling it out slowly, he looked to the screen and showed Renee the  **_Blocked Number_ ** . Without a reply, she nodded, lifted her hand so he could see, and gently squeezed his shoulder. She walked away, disappearing into the crowd. 

Wetting his lips, he took one deep breath and slid to answer. 

_ You can do this. _

“Hello, Nathaniel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking upppppp!!!! Thank you all for reading and keeping up with us. We know we say this every chapter, but seriously. Thank you. It means the world to us and it blows us away every single time. Like.. fuck guys.  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!!! Thanks for reading!


	15. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I don't want this to end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Creators, here.  
> So, let us just begin with the fact that since almost the beginning of this entire thing, we've wanted to write this scene. It's been in the back of our minds for so... fucking long. Jeni, for probably the past two months kept going I JUST WANT TO WRITE THE GRAND CANYON.  
> Here it is. Finally. There are a lot of answers, a lot of things shared in this chapter that will hopefully make more sense. Maybe you'll question things more, maybe you wont. But we tried really fucking hard to make Andrews motivations and reasoning as clear as possible.  
> Also, if you look back in past chapters, we've been leaving hints up to this chapter for literally the entirety of the fic. You'll see some mannerisms and references finally make sense in this chapter.  
> A few CW's ahead:  
> Reference to cutting and brief explanation and reference to scars  
> Drake is in this chapter. But it is very brief and Andrew's own reasoning for hating him is very brief as well.  
> Panic attacks
> 
> ALRIGHT ENOUGH! we hope you love this chapter as much as we do <3 Don't forget to catch up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)!  
> We love you all so so much. Thank you for sticking with us <3
> 
> Oh! Remember! If you're engaging with this world, YOU STILL DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. SORRY!!!!

Andrew was on a plane.

This time, he didn’t mind.

His thoughts were racing and as they lifted into the air, he felt anticipation gather tightly in his chest and crushing hope accompany the pressure popping in his ears.

He was distracted - too distracted to feel the fear of flying and the possibility of falling, because

_this is it._

Here, now. _This_ was finally the moment - the moment where he flew to New York, the moment where he was on his way to see _Neil_. It was like resting on the Arizonian horizon and stretching towards Manhattan, was his own salvation, repentance, penance.

And he was doing it alone. This was something he _had_ to do by himself, without Renee as a steady guide or someone to lean on. No. He had to face whatever lie at the end of JFK’s terminal on his own. So, he sent Renee back home to South Carolina. She understood because she always did. If he had not asked her to go, she probably would’ve suggested it herself.

The plane leveled out and whatever tension he was still feeling dissipated. His shoulders relaxed, and he finally put in his headphones. Closing his eyes, he hit play on Seth's playlist.

* * *

_The sun was sinking in the sky, temperature dropping as the blue above darkened to something deeper, somehow brighter, more vivid. The canyon began to disappear into shadows._

_He realized at that moment that sometimes, when one is very small, everything looks very big. But, when we grow and learn more about the world, we start to see that things which were once so big and scary - are not so big and scary anymore. Childhood bedrooms and childhood hiding spots, childhood monsters and childhood nightmares, seem so small in the face of an adult world._

_It was odd, being back here - where everything around him was just as big and just as vast and wide and open and beautifully terrifying as it had been when he was a kid. But those that were here with him back then, were no longer very real Boogie Men, lingering in the background and ready to pounce._

_No._

_Now, he was 26, not 13. He was alone, without Cass and the rest of the Spear family to drag him from one place to the next. There was no guise of a_ fun camping trip! _, that set so much in motion for him then - and still had him reeling, moving, turning, dancing on the winds of distance, remembrance, and oddly now, finality._

_His phone vibrated in his pocket and bee vibrated with it._

**_Buzz, buzz, buzz_ **

_Pulling it out slowly, he looked to the screen and showed Renee the_ **_Blocked Number_ ** _. Without a reply, she nodded, lifted her hand so he could see, and gently squeezed his shoulder. She walked away, disappearing into the crowd._

_Wetting his lips, he took one deep breath and slid to answer._

**_You can do this._ **

_“Hello, Nathaniel,” Andrew answered. “Or, I guess I should say Alex?”_

_The responding laugh was soft, quiet, but there in his ear._

_He closed his eyes against the squeeze of his heart._

**_‘It’s Neil now, actually.’_ **

-

**_September, 2006_ **

 

Andrew stood at the viewing rail, looking out over the canyon. It seemed like a very long way down... He probably wouldn’t survive it. His eyes just cleared the top of the railing and he stood on his toes to move closer to the edge, leaning as far as he could get. There was a clench of fear in his stomach and he used it to push him onward. He wanted to feel it - wanted to feel the terror that he’d forced himself to lock up tight so many _fucking_ times. Maybe it would help, maybe it would change things. It sat still, at the bottom of his belly, but he wanted it to rise into his throat - just for a moment.

_No, Andrew. Don’t feel anything. Turn it all off._

~~_But I want to_ ~~

It usually worked. He’d gotten really good at it now. Especially when night darkened the curtains and the only thing that his small mind thought could save him was a thin blanket and a simple word.

~~_They never did._ ~~

With creaking footsteps and echoes down the hallway -

Andrew closed his eyes and leaned over even further.

“AJ!” Andrew took a startled step back. He looked up to see Cass Spear making her way towards him, soft brown hair glinting in the sunlight. “What are you doing, silly boy?” she smiled at him. “Get away from the edge before you fall over!”

She wrapped a hand around his forearm and Andrew tried to hide a flinch at her touch, a hiss at the pain of her hand squeezing the fresh cuts on his arm beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“Come on, let’s find Drake and Richard. There’s a tour starting soon.”

_No-_

Andrew extracted his arm from her grasp and refrained from holding it to his chest.

He knew she didn’t mean to pull so hard or hold so tight. Cass cared about him. She was kind and soft and she wanted to _keep_ him. That... that meant more than Andrew would perhaps ever admit. And he? He wanted to keep her, too. Even with the price so high and the real possibility that he wouldn’t survive the cost.

But he followed behind, because he loved her and he watched her bright white tennis shoes become even brighter in the direct sunlight.

~~_He tried not to relish in the coming burn._ ~~

“There they are!” she said and Andrew raised his head a fraction to see Richard Spear, a tall, lanky man with a too-wide smile and too-crinkly eyes. That was a man that spent an entire lifetime smiling - probably at his _perfect_ son’s accomplishments. He was smiling now, a camera held up as he tried to usher said son into taking a photo. Instead, _Drake_ stood, talking to... someone. Andrew furrowed his brow and walked a bit faster to see who it was because that person was neither tall, nor an adult.

“Oh look, AJ! Looks like Drake found a friend for you! He looks about your age,” she smiled at him indulgently and Andrew tried his hardest to give a tiny smile back. He might have managed it, he might not have. All he could feel was a cold wash of dread pulse quickly through his veins as he turned his full attention to Drake.

_Why the fuck is he talking to a kid?_

Andrew narrowed his eyes and watched closely. He tried not to run when Drake pushed the hair back from the kid’s forehead, tried not to sprint when he saw the kid visibly flinch.

Maybe he didn’t try hard enough, before he stood in front of whatever his name was and faced Drake. “ _No,”_ he hissed.

Drake’s brows rose quickly and a smile spread across his face, big and wide and welcoming, but his eyes narrowed, just a bit. They sharpened on Andrew - a predator sizing up his prey.

_Always the prey._

“AJ,” Drake said, as if surprised to find him there. “Hey,” he gestured behind Andrew’s body standing protectively before the other boy. “This is Alex. Tell him he should come with. The three of us can make a day of it together. Maybe hike some trails?”

_Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke._

He swallowed hard and clenching his jaw tight, stopped himself from saying anything he would surely regret. Turning around, he instead grabbed Alex’s shirt sleeve and dragged him away. Where? He didn’t know. But anywhere but _there_.

Drake called after him, but Andrew ignored it.

_Breathe, just try to fucking breathe Andrew-_

Shaking his head, he forced Drake from his head and instead tried to focus on the bounce of his brand new polaroid i-Zone against his chest. He put his free hand on it to stop it and tuned back into the chatter and excitement of tourism and families.

“Where are you going?” He heard Cass call.

He had to respond - just had to. Turning his head over his shoulder he replied, “To hang out with my new friend. I’ll be here at the end of the day,” and sped up his steps before someone could try to follow.

-

_“Neil,” Andrew said, tasting it on his tongue._

**_Neil_ **

_“I’m at the Grand Canyon right now.” He tapped his hand on the railing and looked down. He could still feel that fear he wanted so badly to take in and the sun still warm on his skin. Spreading his fingers out, he turned and pressed his back against the warm metal to look at the spot where they first met._

**_‘Bullshit,’_ ** _Neil responded._

_Andrew tried not to smile._

_“It’s true. You know I never lie.”_

**_‘Hmm, well. It’s been a long time. I don’t know you at all.’_ **

~~**_You probably know me better than most._ ** ~~

-

“Hey,” _Alex_ said, trying to twist out of Andrew’s tight grasp. “HEY!”

Andrew stopped and turned around, immediately letting go of Alex’s shirt.

It was then that he was finally able to take this... kid in. He was small. Andrew didn’t know how old he was, but Alex was a hair shorter and Andrew was a very small thirteen year old. His hair was black and... Andrew couldn’t see his eyes. He kept them down, darting around the pavement and Andrew bent down a little to try and get him to look him in the face.

“Yes?”

Alex’s eyes shot up to Andrew briefly and Andrew took a physical step back. They were very, _very_ blue. Like Howl, from Howl's Moving Castle blue. The sunlight beating on the back of his neck suddenly felt hotter.

“Why’re you dragging me around?” Alex asked, clearly annoyed. He crossed his arms over his narrow chest and glanced over his shoulder, before glaring at Andrew. Andrew didn’t even try to hide his glare right back. Alex continued as he bounced on his toes for a minute and slid his glare to those around him. He said through his teeth, “I’m supposed to be waiting for my mum -”

~~_Mum. You don’t sound english..._ ~~

“I have to go back.”

_You can’t go back. Not when Drake-_

Andrew looked over Alex’s shoulder. People milled between where they were _then_ and where they are _now_ and he could _still_ see Drake looming over heads. Clenching his hands into fists, he took a deep breath and directed his eyes back on Alex’s bowed glare. Frustrated, he asked, “When’s she supposed to be here?”

Alex suddenly looked very unsure. His eyes darted back to the ground and he took hold of the hem of his shirt. “I... She said just before dark.”

_Just before dark? He’s a kid. It’s only noon._

There was only one choice.

“Fine,” Andrew acquiesced. With a firm nod to the thoughts in his head, he said, “Then you’re coming with me for now. Just... trust me okay?” he gestured behind them. “We’ll just go somewhere and hang out until she gets back.”

Alex’s face scrunched up, darkish brown brows gathering together. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know you - just that your name is AJ-”

~~_No_ ~~

“It’s Andrew,” he cut him off. Shaking his head he glanced over Alex’s shoulder once more and felt the unsettling feeling that was curling there only moments before, start to lessen. “Don’t call me AJ. I hate it.” He then shrugged as Alex twisted the hem in his hands. “Hey, I guess you’ll just have to trust me. Come on,” he turned and hoped with everything inside him that Alex followed.

-

_Quiet stretched between them. Andrew, though nothing was being said, relished in it. The quick, yet steady breath that was coming in through the receiver and knowing that somewhere, Nathaniel stood just as he was - with phone to ear and something unsaid passing between the distance of the two._

-

“Where’re we going?”

His voice wasn’t quite unsure or scared, but there was an edge of demand to it. Nonetheless, hearing the question sparked something hopeful in the center of Andrew’s belly.

_He’s following. I can get him away. Keep him safe._

Andrew raised a brow back at him. Alex was still looking at the ground, but his eyes lifted every now and then as he hurried on equally short legs after Andrew.

“Something wrong with your eyes? Like, does the sun hurt? You got that photo-something disease? Where you can't be in the sun?”

Alex looked up at him, startled. Andrew nearly felt startled too, at the shock of icy blue staring back at him. “What? No! I don’t even know what you’re talking about. It’s just... the dust I guess...” he mumbled.

Andrew stopped walking and Alex almost bumped right into him. Andrew took off his sunglasses from where they were on top of his head and held them out. “Here.”

Alex stared at him for a moment - pupils small like pinpoints in the light. His chin pulled back, but his hand lifted hesitantly, before he took them and stared at them for a minute, as if confused. The sunglasses were black Ray Bans with purple arms and Andrew thought they were pretty fucking cool. Cass had given them to him a few months ago when summer started. He kept them in perfect condition, without even a scratch. He hoped Alex appreciated it.

Which, it seemed like he did. Because as Alex slid them on and looked at Andrew through them, Andrew could see his shoulders immediately relax.

“Thanks,” he said, and Andrew felt himself almost sorry that he couldn’t see his eyes anymore.

~~_Weird._ ~~

Shaking his head, Andrew mumbled, “Whatever,” and pointed to their destination. “There’s a snack bar up there that’s closed. Come on.”

The Hermit’s Rest Snack Bar was a small little shack with a locked door to get in and a sign on the window that said, _‘closed for maintenance’_. Andrew spotted it about an hour or two earlier when his stomach was growling for attention and Drake was busy taking pictures with Cass by a sign that read something Andrew didn’t give a fuck about.   

“Why’re we here, if it’s closed?” Alex asked. Andrew decided not to answer. Instead, he looked around to make sure no one was looking their way and went to his knees. Pulling a paper clip and a bobby pin from his pocket, he set to work.

“Oh my _god_ ,” _Alex_ hissed in a whisper. “The hell are you doing?! You can’t just-”

_Huh?_

Andrew glanced up at him questioningly, but Alex just groaned and shook his head. Andrew rolled his eyes and set back to work, pressing his ear close to the lock and waiting to hear it’s _click_. When it came, he stood and pushed the door open. Brow raised he said, “Looks like I can.” He motioned inside. “We can hide in here for a while. The sun is fuckin’ killing me...”

Alex studied him for a moment or two, full lips pressed tightly together, before he sighed out of his nose and shook his head. Walking in, Andrew filed behind him. He had a distinct impression that Alex just wanted to see where this went.

The room was even smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. Thin shelves lined the walls, a cooler hummed in the corner, and a small counter with a plethora of snacks arranged upon it was pressed against a wall with a sliding window above it. Andrew hummed to himself because, _jackpot_ , then dropped to the floor. Pressing his back against the cooler, he motioned for Alex to follow.

“We have to stay down,” he said. “People’ll see us if we stand.”

“Someone could see anyway, idiot,” Alex mumbled, pressing his hand to the door as if to make sure it was closed. “God, if I get caught my mum is going to kill me,” the mumble turned to almost a whine, but he sat down nonetheless and backed up so he was pressed against the counter cabinet. Pulling his knees up, he took off Andrew’s glasses and closed his eyes to take a deep breath in. It was then that Andrew realized his hand was shaking - a little thing at first, but grew as his shoulders shrugged up and the tension there returned.

_No, no, no_

He was panicking, Andrew thought. Something inside of him felt bad about it, but that bad feeling was dwarfed by what could’ve happened if he was left in Drake's presence. So, instead, he scooted next to Alex and asked quietly, “Can I touch you?”

Alex’s head shot up and he looked to Andrew warily. His bottom lip quivered for half a second, before those brows dipped defiantly and he asked, “What?”

Andrew had to fight to keep himself from the attitude that was usually primed and ready to strike. Taking a deep breath of his own, he shrugged his shoulders. “Because you’re freaking the fuck out, which is like, fine... I guess. But,” he glanced at Alex’s shaking hands. “Trust me, leaving you out there would’ve been 100 million times worse.” He bit his lip, debating whether or not to follow through.

_Stop thinking so much. It’ll help. Help him._

“There’s this thing-” he motioned towards his own neck. “It’ll help. Promise. Can I?”

Alex was practically panting by now. His chest rose and fell quickly and Andrew could see the pulse beneath his ear beating double time. Alex closed his eyes tight and took one deep breath, but it caught and he opened his eyes to scrutinize Andrew for a moment longer. Then, he nodded, tiny little motions.

Swallowing hard, Andrew lifted a hand, making sure Alex could see it, before setting it firmly on the back of his neck and pushed him forward, just a little.

Beneath his hand, Alex tensed up for only a moment. Then, slowly, he began to relax, head bowing and eyes falling closed as he fought to catch his breath. Eventually, seconds passed and his pulse began to even out, his breathing became steadier, smoother, deeper, and Andrew nodded to himself.

Letting go slowly, he wanted nothing more than to stay seated beside whoever this boy was. Instead, he slid back to his spot on the other side of the tiny shack so they were seated across from each other. From there, he watched - for only a moment, really... He watched while Alex had his eyes closed.

His skin was darker than Andrew’s - a tan that he could never hope to achieve, with his pale skin and blond hair. There were freckles all over his face, his arms. Whether they were sunspots or not, he didn’t know. There was an especially dark one on his ear, Andrew noted with some small fascination. His black hair curled just below it, which, all together, seemed out of place. It wasn’t curly, persé, but wavy and... _wrong?_

Alex opened his eyes and Andrew snapped his own away, feeling an odd heat crawling up his neck and to his face. Luckily, distractions were something Andrew was particularly good at.

“Thanks,” Alex whispered quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

_Say you’re welcome._

Andrew grumbled something unintelligible and set his sights on the cooler behind him. Turning on his knees, he did manage a nod at least and slid back the top of the cooler to find ice cream _hidden_ inside.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked.

_You’re fine. The cold is nice._

The cold air from the cooler rose up and made his face feel less hot. He could’ve been a bit nicer, but he said, “What does it look like I’m doing?” over his shoulder, before hissing, “Oh _fuck yes-”_ He pulled out a fudgesicle and held it up for Alex to see. When he looked, Alex seemed wholly unimpressed. “Ice cream!” Andrew explained unnecessarily, but Alex just nodded slowly.

Groaning to himself, he closed the case, then slid back down and ripped the wrapper open and threw it to the side. “What? You don’t like ice cream?” Andrew took a bite and ignored the sharp pain in his teeth.

_Worth it. Great distraction Andrew._

Alex slowly shook his head, “I-I don’t really like sweets...”

_WHA-_

“What?” Andrew furrowed his brow. “What kind of kid doesn’t like sweets? Do you also kick puppies in your spare time?”

Alex was slow to shrug. “I mean... If they kick me first, I suppose.”

Andrew couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud and quickly clapped a cold hand over his mouth in surprise.

_When was the last time I laughed?_

It felt weird and wrong and he cut it off quickly. Taking another bite, he felt a tension rise in his own shoulders, hoping Alex didn’t think he was crazy. “So,” he swallowed and continued, “No sweets?”

Alex shrugged one shoulder, then the other. “I mean...” he started. “I like fruit. Fruit is sweet.” Alex turned his head this way and that, looking around.

_Oh, poor poor kid..._

Andrew’s lived a horrible, short fucking life, but he didn’t find happiness in _fruit_.

“God, you’re sad...” Andrew mumbled to himself, putting the fudgesicle in his mouth to hold it as he sat up and dug through boxes until he found a pack of skittles. Biting into his ice cream, he tossed it to Alex and relaxed again against the cooler.

Alex looked startled when it landed in his lap and gingerly picked it up like it might explode. Smoothing out the package with a thumb, he raised a brow at Andrew. “Skittles?”

Andrew gestured his ice cream towards him. The popsicle stick was finally poking out of the top. “Yeah, it’s fruit. See?” He nodded towards the package and Alex just looked at it, unconvinced. “It’s just candy, jesus christ, kid. Live a little.”

Something about those words made Alex bristle. Andrew thought, perhaps, he’d said the wrong thing, but Alex raised the package to his teeth, stared Andrew right in the eye and ripped it open. Andrew raised his own brow, then nodded in impressed approval as Alex took a few and popped them into his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed. “I can feel my teeth rotting right out of my _fuckin’_ head.”

_Ah, there it is._

Andrew didn’t try to hide his smile this time as he nodded. “That’s how you know it’s good.” He tilted his head to bite the side of his ice cream, but kept his eyes trained on Alex for a bit longer.

“How old are you, anyway?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him as he let the ice cream melt in his mouth.

Alex grimaced down at the skittles and looked as if he were going for more, then shook his head and made a _‘bleck_ ’ sound. “Twelve,” he said, folding the corners of the package over. “I’ll be thirteen in January, though. You?”

_You’re small for a twelve year old._

“Thirteen. I’ll be fourteen in November.” Which, Andrew thought, made him sound very old.

Turning the popsicle over, he bit the other side and said, perhaps... playfully? “You’re shorter than me.”

Alex raised a brow at him, “Congratulations?” then took a skittle out and threw it at Andrew. It bounced off the cooler beside his head. “I’m shorter than most people. You’re not special.”

_You’re funny..._

Andrew fought back another smile and instead, shrugged. “I just don’t find kids my age shorter than me, often. That’s all,” amusement tickled his words and he was surprised to find that he did not wholly mind it. It felt... good. He felt _light_.

“Well,” Alex started. “Here I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide, bag of skittles still in his hand. “It’s fate. We met just to boost your ego.”

 _I like this_.

Andrew snorted, “There’s no such thing as fate.”

Alex dropped his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. Something about that made Andrew feel... accomplished maybe? He was uncurling himself, something comfortable drifted between them and Andrew felt like he was doing something _right._ He was drawn from his thoughts as Alex asked, “You don’t believe in fate?”

“Of course not,” _duh?_ “You do?” he asked as he finished off his ice cream and tossed the stick aside. “How quaint. Do you also believe in fairies?”

“No, but I think things happen for a reason. Even bad things.” He shrugged and his knee twitched. Alex looked down at it, like he wanted to curl back up but was actively telling himself not to. “Makes it easier when you have to face ‘em.”

Andrew didn’t like that. He didn’t like that because the idea that the shit that had been done to him was done because of some almighty fucking purpose. In fact, dark anger curled and he clenched his hands into fists. A part of him liked it, the other part...

“That’s bullshit,” Andrew mumbled and moved onto his knees. “Nothing happens for a reason, Alex. Everything is random and shit happens because the world and the people in it are shit.” He leaned forward and reached an arm close to Alex’s head to get a package of Reeses. Alex went to grab his arm with a sudden movement, but Andrew flinched away quickly, retreating to his side of the room and clutching it to his chest.

Alex eyed him, then his arm, then trailed his eyes back to his face. “What happened to your arm...?” he asked quietly.

Andrew clenched his teeth together and ground them slightly. It sounded loud in this small space. With a slow breath, he dropped his arm to his lap and looked down at it. His sleeve had ridden up and some cuts were visible - red and angry where Cass had squeezed earlier.

~~_Lie._ ~~

Andrew looked up at Alex slowly and saw the moment when Alex’s breath caught in his throat - saw when those _blue_ eyes widened just a little.

_I can’t lie._

“Shit things happen, Alex. Sometimes all we can do is hang the fuck on and do the best we can,” he shrugged a shoulder and mumbled, “Or something...”

Alex was quiet, stayed quiet. The pack of skittles were forgotten in his lap, a few pieces pushing past the flimsy fold and rolling out. Alex bit the inside of his lip, a little indent as indication as he chewed slightly. When he finally spoke, he asked, “Do you want to die?” very quietly. “Is that why you do that?”

_No-_

Andrew shook his head and closed his eyes. This was something he’d never talked about with anyone... Cass didn’t know, even though sometimes, Andrew pushed his long sleeves up just a little - just to right above his wrist where the bottom of them could be seen. He guessed, to an extent, he wanted her to see. But she never did.

_She didn’t see a lot..._

Coming up with an answer was hard and he didn’t owe anyone anything. But, a part of himself wanted to try and put words to the feelings and the impulses and the _needs_. Wetting his lips, he heard himself say, “I do it because I want to live.” It was quiet, just a whisper - perhaps below it even.

_Move on._

With a deep breath, he lifted his head and said, forcing his voice to sound strong. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alex looked like he understood. His nod ended with his own eyes on his lap. His finger poked at one of the escaped skittles and unexpectedly, he responded, “I have scars too.” It was a whisper, just like Andrew’s. The tone the same, the meaning... similar?

_Shared._

“I didn’t give them to myself, but I’ve got them.” When he lifted his head, their eyes met and Andrew slowly stretched his own legs out.

Their feet touched.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, sounding a lot more steady than he felt, a lot more _uncaring_ than he felt.

Maybe, part of him was angry that _Alex_ could see what Cass never fucking did.

Finding a bit of strength he didn’t know was there, he nudged Alex’s foot with his own. “You saw mine, show me yours?”

It seemed as though Alex had already made up his mind. A bit of determination shone behind his eyes as he lifted a hand and pulled the collar of his shirt.

“Holy shit...” Andrew whispered.

Nestled in the little divot of his shoulder and clavicle, was a round scar. It was healed, but it was still red and puckered. Andrew felt his eyes widen and his body leaned forward. He raised his own fingers and pressed it against the same spot on his own shoulder. “You were shot...?” He asked.

Alex nodded and looked down at it, before letting go of his shirt. “Nowhere important, thankfully...” he mumbled, then moved his hands to the hem of his shirt. He paused, for a moment, then twisted it in his hands like he had before and settled back against the shelves after some decision was made in his head.

Andrew scratched at the spot on his own shoulder and shook his head. “Wow, okay... you win,” he mumbled.

Alex, surprisingly, laughed ~~_albeit, sadly_ ~~ ~~,~~ and shook his head. “It’s not a competition.”

Alex tossed him the pack of skittles. A few slipped out, _tap tap tapping_ against the floor and bouncing every which way. When Andrew caught the pack, a majority was left and he shrugged his shoulder, sucking on an orange as thoughts circled in his head and he finally asked, “So, you think that happened to you for a reason?”

While Alex thought of an answer, Andrew moved back into the cooler and found two water bottles. Throwing one back towards Alex, he heard him catch it. Andrew set his own beside him as he watched Alex’s small hands crack open the seal, but he didn’t drink.

“I think,” he eventually said, looking from the bottle to Andrew, “If nothing else, it didn’t kill me. Taught me a lesson, I guess... ‘Bout people and what they can do.” he finally took a small sip.

Andrew tried not to watch.

He tore his eyes away and poured a few more skittles into his hand. “And what’s that? What are people capable of?” He bit into half of a red and crushed the other half between his thumb and forefinger.

He knew the answer to that question. He just wanted to hear someone _else_ say it...

“Destruction of the smallest things,” Alex answered too quickly, too quietly - like he’d thought about it a time or two...

* * *

 **_Destruction of the smallest things_ ** _._

 _That, at the time, sounded so smart, so deep. Now with_ **_Neil’s_ ** _voice in his ear, Andrew realized it was really something too advanced, too specific, too sad for a twelve year old to know and understand._

**_It all makes sense now._ **

_He didn’t show him all his scars then. Andrew remembered the contemplation, the mental battle he saw going through_ **_Alex’s_ ** _head at the time. He remembered his small fists twisting in his shirt, before ultimately deciding it wasn’t for Andrew to see - the dozens of scars scattering his torso. Or so Karl claimed._

 **_I believe him_ ** _._

_And then -_

* * *

Andrew’s insides seized and the skittle in his mouth tasted _wrong_. He felt sick, all of a sudden. Slowly, he set them down on the floor and stared at Alex as he pulled his own legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. Wrapping his arms around himself, he gripped onto his sleeves and tried to close himself in tightly.

_Hold everything together._

“Who did that to you...?” Andrew eventually asked, just as soft, just as quiet. It was like he didn’t want to disturb the air - the silence that was ringing so loud between them, he wanted to cover his ears and try to block it out.

_Someone who understands?_

Alex watched him, eyes too keen and smart and sharp. With a hard stare, it took nearly a minute before Alex decided Andrew was worth telling _whatever_ it was he wanted to say.

“My father,” His voice was... strong? It had a force, a determination Andrew admired. “My mum took me and left when I was five, but...” he stopped, strength not waning, but deliberating whether or not to continue.

“But what?” Andrew urged. He didn’t want Alex to stop. He wanted him to keep going, he wanted to relate, he wanted to _understand_ and be _understood_.

Alex shook his head and glanced at the door. “Nothing... I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

_Don’t stop-_

“I won't tell,” Andrew replied, perhaps desperate, perhaps not. “I promise and I _never_ break my promises.”

Alex pulled his chin back. “How do I know that?”

Andrew mirrored him, “Because I just told you, idiot.”

Alex swallowed, pressed his lips back together and looked down at the floor. A few beats of loud silence followed. With a deep sigh, Alex continued, “She took me and ran when I was five, but we’re still running.” He motioned with a hand to the door, then dropped it to his jeans. He picked at a fraying hole at his knee, “She’s meeting with someone right now... someone who can help. But, she didn’t want him to see me for some reason. So,” Alex shrugged. “She told me to stay here... or there, I guess... and hide out ‘til she could get back.”

Andrew felt his eyes squint and his brows gather. “So,” he started, shaking his head. “You’ve been running this whole time?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah. Always moving - we don’t stay in one place for long.” He chewed on his lip, then let go. “I don’t even know what that-” he looked again to the door, “would be like. Like your family out there? Vacations and shit? That just seems weird to me.”

“They’re not my family,” Andrew said quickly, then reeled back. “I mean... Cass wants to adopt me. But...” he shook his head. “I don’t know...”

“Oh,” Alex said, cocking his head to the side. “So, you’re like…an orphan or something?”

Andrew had never thought of himself as an orphan, but he supposed that was as good a descriptor as any.

“I guess, yeah. A foster kid,” he loosened his arms around his legs. “I mean, I’m always moving, too. From place to place, family to family. I’ve been with this one the longest so far.” Andrew finally dropped his knees and let his legs stretch out in front of him. His feet and Alex’s were next to each other now. They could tap shoes again, if they moved their feet just right.

“Do you want them to adopt you?”

_Yes._

_No._

~~_I don’t know._ ~~

Andrew just shrugged, not willing to speak further, not willing to think more, _not willing to stop now_ \- not when he felt like he was on the precipice.

“I-” Andrew took a deep breath and let it out as he continued, “don’t really want to move again. But, I don’t want to stay,” he could say it. He could tell Alex. ~~_No_ ~~ ~~.~~ Instead, “Because people are shit and love the destruction of the smallest things.” He couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes.

Alex went quiet anyway. He didn’t ask any questions, which Andrew was glad for. Andrew didn’t think he could handle answering them - he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

Finally, Alex broke the silence. “We’re both pretty fucked, huh?”

Andrew laughed again before he could stop himself.

It was a good laugh, starting from his belly and rising up. He felt that warmth again and something about this, about Alex, felt _okay_.

Feeling his smile slowly fade, he finally let his eyes raise as he replied, “Yeah. I guess we are.” Then looked back down at his finger tapping on his leg. After a beat or two, Andrew suggested, “We could run away,” like he was asking Alex if he wanted more skittles, or water, or something.

“What?” Alex asked quickly.

The words were at the tip of his tongue and Andrew didn’t want to hold them back even if it was just a silly thought. “We could run away. Right now.” he nodded to himself. “There are so many fucking people here, no one would even notice.” _Yeah, that sounds good, Andrew._ “I have a little money in my wallet. We could take a cab to the nearest truck stop and just hitchhike until we’re like, a thousand miles away.”

When he looked up again, Alex’s lips twitched. “Where would we go, a thousand miles away? Florida?” He was giving in, letting the two of them to live the fantasy for just a moment.

_I like this._

Andrew gave him a grossed out look. “Gators and meth? No thanks. Maybe Pennsylvania? The Hershey factory is there.”

“Why do I give a shit about the Hershey factory?” Alex asked. “No, let’s go to Wisconsin. They have a lot of farms and stuff,” he nodded, as if trying to convince Andrew. “We can work on a farm and get paid illegally or something, so we can get food and a place to live and stuff.”

~~_I don’t want this to end._ ~~

“What kind of farm?” Andrew asked.

“A dairy farm, duh. It’s _Wisconsin._ ”

Andrew’s nose wrinkled. “What about New York?” he asked. “They probably wouldn’t even notice a couple of random kids. We could panhandle in Times Square.”

“Hmmmm,” Alex said, rubbing his chin. “I could do New York. They have a really good exy team.”

“They have really good hot dogs, too,” Andrew added, nodding to himself. “So, we’ll hitchhike to New York.”

“And we’ll watch exy.”

“And eat hotdogs.”

They stopped talking only long enough to catch each other’s eyes and start laughing, this time together. It felt _so fucking good_ . To laugh and relate and pretend and hope and wish and Andrew _didn’t want this to fucking end._

Nevertheless, they only quieted when they heard voices outside the window. He looked back to Alex, who was surveying him sadly.

“We can’t really do that, can we?” he asked.

Andrew looked down at his hands. “No. We can’t.”

“I don’t want to leave my mum alone.”

“I don’t want anymore kids to come into the house.”

“Hey,” Alex said, and he tapped Andrew’s shoe with his own. “I don’t care what you say. Fate is a thing. Maybe us meeting like this is fate.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and mumbled bitterly, “It’s not.” Because maybe, a piece of him ~~_very_ ~~ deep down wished it was.

“Maybe not. But maybe it is.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Andrew said again, almost frustrated this time.

~~_Don’t give me hope._ ~~

Alex sighed, watching him with a steady eye. “How about this. If we’re ever in a position to help each other, we do it. Okay? Even if it’s twenty years from now. If we can find each other again, we’ll do it and we’ll help and we’ll make sure the other is okay.”

_I want that._

“Yeah?” Andrew asked. ~~He couldn’t imagine himself being anywhere twenty years from now.~~

~~_But I want that._ ~~

“Yeah,” said Alex.

_It’s okay to hope._

Andrew wanted to believe that. He wanted it so bad... So, he nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

“You never break your promises,” Alex reminded him.

_No._

“I never do. Here,” Andrew started, “We’ll pinky swear on it,” he held up his pinky.

Alex looked confused. His head tilted to the side just so, black hair falling over his forehead. His nose wrinkled, freckles blurring together. “Pinky swear? What the hell is that?”

_Oh my god, he’s so stupid._

Andrew rolled his eyes and patted himself on the back for patience. Bending his legs, he scooted forward and leaned in. “Just give me your pinky, idiot.”

Alex looked between Andrew’s hand, his face, and then his own pinky. With a second's hesitation, he held his own out and Andrew hooked them together.

~~_This -_ ~~

“Like this,” He tugged Alex’s hand as he leaned forward. Then, Andrew pressed his lips to his own fist. Alex raised a brow, but he followed Andrew’s lead -

\- And, for one short second, their eyes locked. It wasn’t from either side of the shack or in the open where people could see. No, they locked inches away and Andrew _felt_ them breathe the same breath. Light filtered in through the wide window above and caught Alex _just so_ . The blue, it was so - and... and though he was certain he’d never seen that color before, it was _something else_ that took that shared breath away. That _something_ was a reflection of a _thing_ Andrew couldn’t explain, but understood deeper than he would ever admit. Alex’s eyes widened just a bit, like he saw it, ~~_felt it,_ ~~ too. Seconds suspended, time stopped, Andrew felt like he couldn’t pull away if he tried and Alex? He looked like he couldn’t either.

But time must move on, and good things must come to an end because that was ~~_Andrew’s_ ~~ life and _good things scared him._

So, he pulled back, confused and lost ~~_and found_ ~~ and he didn’t like it - didn’t like things he couldn’t name. He didn’t want to anyway, ~~_right?_ ~~ Not now.

Looking back at Alex, he saw that pulse pounding in his neck again, and swore it beat in time with his own.

-

 _A sigh. It was soft and broke the_ **_loud_ ** _silence._

 _Andrew could feel it - could feel_ **_Neil_ ** _remembering that hot day, so many years ago... Huddled together and skirting on the edge of secrets._

 ** _‘What are you doing, Andrew...?’_** **_Neil_** _finally asked so quietly - almost desperately._

 _“Keeping my promise,” automatic, right there. That’s what Andrew was doing, what he always intended to do - keep his promise... Because so much time had passed by the time he realized it was a promise that_ **_could_ ** _be kept._

**_‘This is a little extreme, don’t you think?’_ **

**_Yes._ **

_“I don’t do subtle,” He responded instead and felt his pinky crack. Looking down, he realized his hands were shaking and he had to take a deep breath to settle the nerves. It didn’t help. Swallowing hard, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. One handed, he slid one out and used his lips to take hold of it. With a flick of his lighter, he inhaled a deep drag and closed his eyes against the burn and the silence and_ **_Alex, Nathaniel, Neil_ **.

_The smoke filled his chest - filled the spaces that weren’t full of questions and declarations and secrets kept all these years._

_-_

“So, it’s settled then,” Alex said, when they were both back in their respective spots and the moment had come and gone.

~~_Gone, gone, gone_ ~~

Andrew nodded, because he had to. But _something_ inside of him tugged and he took the feeling and ran with it. Turning over onto his knees, he crawled the short distance to a postcard stand and pulled one down. Peeking over the counter, he grabbed a pen near the register and scribbled on the card to get the slightly dried ink to go. Sitting back in his spot, he briefly read over _WISH YOU WERE HERE_ scrawled on the front, then turned it over and pressed the 6x4 card flat on his leg before he wrote down his name, address, and phone number. He handed it to Alex.

“Here,” he said. “I live in California. You can write to me... if you want - or call” he shrugged a shoulder and tried to act like it didn’t matter if Alex did or didn’t.

Alex slowly reached a hand out and took it, flipping it over to read the back.

“Andrew Doe,” he read out loud before looking up questioningly.

~~_Spear_ ~~

Andrew shrugged. “Orphan,” he said simply, because that was... what was right. He knew that deep down, no matter how much he wanted to _hold on_.

Alex just nodded, accepting it. “I,” he started and frowned at himself before taking a deep breath and continuing with a shake of his head. “I won’t write. I want to-” he said quickly before Andrew could tell him to fuck off. “But, there’s no way my mum would let me... She’d rip this up and beat the shit out of me if she saw it.”

_No-_

“Fine,” Andrew forced himself to say, reaching forward to try and take it back. “Forget it.”

Alex snatched it out of his grasp and held it to his chest, “No! No, I want to keep it-” he shook his head and pressed his lips together again. His shoulders sunk a bit, chest deflated as he said, “It’s just.. I’m sorry If I never call or write.”

_It’s okay, Alex._

Andrew shrugged and forced himself to seem unbothered.

_Maybe, I’m not._

“At least you have the option, if you find out you can.”

-

 **_‘Andrew.’_ ** _Not soft, chastising._

_Andrew watched the ash fly on an errant wind as he tapped it away. Guilt sat in his stomach and he wanted it to be taken away with the ash._

_“I have something of yours,” he said, trying to distract himself. Dropping the cigarette he was fairly sure wasn’t allowed in the park, he ground it into the dirt with the toe of his boot and pulled out the postcard instead._

_When he turned it over, his own 13 year old handwriting stared back at him - Cass Spears’ address and phone number in Oakland, California accompanying it._

_“You never wrote,” he said._

**_Neil_ ** _sighed again. A second passed and Andrew knew he was debating with himself._ **_‘I told you, I wouldn’t.’_ **

_“I suppose you did.”_

-

_We’re close._

Andrew realized just then. He had leaned forward again. His hands on the floor between them and so, _so close_ . Andrew thought they were both caught, for just a second. Two boys who knew what the world really was, face to face, matching breaths and heartbeats and thoughts ~~_and pain?_ ~~.

They were both startled by a buzzing in Alex’s pocket.

Andrew sat back with a thump and Alex quickly pulled out a Nokia phone.

“Hello? Hey, mum,” his eyes met Andrew’s again, or they tried because Andrew sat back on his heels and flicked one of the skittles across the floor. ~~_I don’t want this to end_ ~~ ~~.~~ “I’m hiding out right now... Okay... No, no. I’ll come to you. Okay. I’ll be there in just a second.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and moved to stand, but paused. “I-“

“Have to go, I know. I heard.” Resentment tasted bitter on his tongue. Andrew, all of a sudden realized he hated Alex’s mother very much.

“Right...” Alex nodded slowly, hesitantly. He stood and looked to the door, then back to Andrew. “Okay, well…I guess it was nice meeting you.”

~~_Don’t go_ ~~

“Wait,” Andrew said quickly, standing up too. He pressed his hand to his chest, just remembering. “Here let’s take a picture,” and held up his camera.

Alex chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, probably weighing pros and cons Andrew barely understood. He looked towards the window, then back at Andrew before finally nodding.

Something beat hard in his chest that Andrew refused to acknowledge. He tried his best as he took the camera from around his neck and moved to stand next to Alex until they were shoulder to shoulder, but not touching. Nonetheless, Andrew could still feel his warmth through his shirt.

Ever so slightly, they both tilted their heads toward each other in unison, and Andrew turned the lens to face them and snapped the picture.

There was a flash that printed itself on Andrew’s eyes as he blinked quickly and looked down to pull the small polaroid out. “Do you want a copy?” he asked, shaking it. “I can mail it to you, if you give me your address.”

* * *

 

_He didn’t have one._

* * *

 

“No…I mean yes, but…we move around a lot, like I said. I wouldn’t be able to keep it.” he pressed his fingertips to Andrew’s hand and pushed it towards him. “Keep it for me okay? Bring it next time we meet.” Alex gave him a small smile.

_Next time we meet._

* * *

 

_Next time we meet._

* * *

 

“Sure,” Andrew said. “Hot dogs in New York.”

“And exy.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

Alex just smiled bigger. “Bye, Andrew.”

“Bye, Alex.”

-

 _Andrew could hear something through the receiver. When he closed his eyes, he almost knew what it was -_ **_Neil_ ** _chewing on the inside of his lip._

 **_‘Come find me then,’_ ** _he finally decided. The purr of what Andrew could tell was a cat rattled not far from_ **_Neil’s_ ** _phone, he bet._ **_Neil_ ** _continued,_ **_‘I’m in New York-’_ **

_New York?_

**_‘I’ve been staying with… a friend. Come find me and we’ll talk. But it has to be alone. You can’t tell anyone else... Not yet.’_ **

_“You’re in New York...?” Andrew asked._

**_What kind of fuckery -_ **

**_‘Do you still think fate is bullshit?’_ **

_Andrew blew out a breath and wished it were a stream of smoke. He stared at the crushed cigarette on the ground and rubbed his forehead with his spare hand._

**_Don’t._ **

_He was unwilling to go down that road right now. So, instead, he nodded his head and said impulsively, truthfully,_ ~~_wantingly_ ~~ _, “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can get on a plane. Text me the details and I’ll respond with my flight info.”_

~~**_Is this it?_ ** ~~

**_Yes._ **

~~**_Is this happening...?_ ** ~~

**_Yes_ **

**_‘Okay,’ Neil_ ** _cut him off._ **_‘I’ll... I’ll see you then.’_ **

**_See you then_ **

**_‘Bye, Andrew.’_ **

_“Bye, Alex.”_

-

Andrew watched him walk through the door - watched him walk away through the window. When he could no longer see him through the crowd and distance and ~~_and and and_ ~~ ~~,~~ he finally looked down at the picture in his hand. Slowly, the image faded into view like a hazy dream coming to fruition when one is half asleep.

Andrew wasn’t smiling, but Alex... he had a very small one lifting at the corner of his mouth.

He pulled out his wallet and slipped it inside before he got stuck staring at it ~~_before he ran after him_ _._ ~~With a deep breath, he looked up and prepared for leaving himself. Raising his hand to his head, he remembered just then, that Alex had taken his sunglasses with him.

He realized he didn’t mind, very much.

Eventually, Andrew made his way out of that little snack bar and he knew, without a doubt, that he would never see Alex again.

* * *

 

Andrew pulled his wallet from his bag on the seat beside him. Opening it slowly, he took out the very small, very old polaroid he’d kept there - that he moved from wallet to wallet ever since he was 13... That he looked for as soon as he was released from juvie and had been given back his things... That he looked at whenever things were hard and life uncertain -

That he refused to look at since this entire thing started. Because it brought about impulses and feelings, and it brought about hurt and hope that he couldn’t let himself have - not when he was trying _so fucking hard_ to find out what happened to _him._ The boy with the blue eyes; the boy who liked fruit, not sweets; who had scars and understood pain, like Andrew.

 _The boy who Andrew_ **_promised_ ** _he would help._  

~~_And broke that promise... For so many years._ ~~

No. He didn’t look because he knew if he did, everything would rush back and he would move too fast, too eager, too quick and start making assumptions when he should be thinking critically.

Finding _Alex_ was something that couldn't afford mistakes.

Andrew ran a thumb over _Alex, Neil, Nathaniel’s_ small smile and he felt the same thing he had back in that small snack bar.

That was the first time he met someone who might have an inkling of understanding of what _life_ really was... And though Andrew didn’t realize it at the time, _that_ was the first time a boy made him _feel_.

He wasn’t ready, not at 13 to think about it. He’d come to terms with his sexuality in juvie, when he was finally away from his abuser and with the help of therapists.

But he had.

And when he had, he was able to look back at that encounter with Alex and confidently say, _‘that was my first crush’._

But, crushes were stupid and none of that was worth the price of bread because _that_ wasn’t the reason why _he_ was _here._

No, it wasn’t like after all these years, he was still harboring some weird attachment that he couldn’t let go of. Not like _that_.

He was here because he had to be. Because _promises_ were important, they were _everything_ . All of this was because _Alex, Nathaniel,_ **_Neil_ ** deserved justice and he deserved _freedom._ He deserved someone to _remember_ him - properly. He didn’t deserve to be brushed aside and only acknowledged when that _fucking documentary came out._

When listeners asked him why he was doing this, Andrew never lied. It was all the reasons he said. Justice and truth and helping the forgotten. He just had extra motivation behind his reasons.

Because that’s what this was... wasn’t it?

Andrew, he pushed _Alex_ aside. He told himself that when he was in a position to help, he would - but how can you help when you don’t know where to fucking start?

But that _is_ what happened. The documentary came out and everything fell into place. Everything made sense and the pain from that realization was -

Perhaps it was resentment - resentment towards the Moriyamas, towards himself. He hated that it took a stupid fucking documentary about a stupid fucking monster to see who _Alex_ really was. To see that the horrors he endured were far worse than Andrew could have ever expected.

It took the family photo to really _get_ it - that Nathaniel and Alex really were one in the same.

And Andrew hated that...

Because so many years had passed. So many years of Andrew getting his own life together while _Alex’s_ was continuing to fall apart.

All these years, he’d been running and suffering and _whatever_ fucking else.

 _I failed him_.

_I’m trying to make it right._

_-_

The plane was landing at JFK before Andrew even knew what was happening.

He had to force himself to blink back to reality, to gather his things and file off with everyone else.

It wasn’t until he was on one of the terminal trains when he realized that it was late afternoon on Monday, and Andrew had absolutely no fucking plan. He had no idea where he was staying no clue when he’d see ~~_Alex_ ~~ _Neil._ He barely knew where he was fucking going - just following the crowd as he gripped his carry-on over his shoulder and watched as everything changed around him while he walked to... _Wherever._

Eventually, he assumed he came to the end. The light outside was waning, but filtering through the wide, two story windows in blues and oranges and purples. There was a NEWS STAND off to the side, Metro gates separating him from... Jamaica station.

His feet took him to the candy shelf before he could really tell himself no, and a pack of skittles was bought and paid for in his hand with a smile stretching over his lips. He caught himself when some announcement came overhead and jarred him from his thoughts.

Andrew didn’t really hear what was said, but he did shove the skittles into his bag and took a deep breath as he looked to the gates and prepared himself for whatever lie beyond.

With steps that couldn’t move fast enough, he felt the metal press against his stomach, then slip away as he passed into the station. Doors opened for him, automatic and revealing a chaotic rush of bodies and coats and rolling luggage and -

_Honey and blue, blue ice_

_And a million miles and years and_

_Fate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes...  
> We hope this sheds some light on Andrew's motivation. Maybe you agree with him, maybe you don't. Stick around to see what happens next :)  
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated. We love you all like, so god damned much. See yall soon!
> 
> Check out the 6x4 ;) [postcard here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185853391295/did-your-talk-with-ashleigh-provide-any-useful)!
> 
> And the song we kept listening to when reading and writing this. We think this is the song Andrew was listening to on the plane. [Kill Our Way To Heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAPhp9LYq44)


	16. Red Rabbits Team Interviews: Seth Gordon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renee interviews Seth Gordon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creators:  
> God, we're really mean. Cast interviews? Instead of what happens when Andrew arrives in NYC?!?! Woops :) Sorry! For now, hopefully this holds everyone over until we finish the next full chapter. It's a long one, so please bare with us!  
> And, as always, thank you all so fucking much for last chapters reaction. Just... just wow. We love you all so fucking much and we hope, at least, this helps bring some comedic relief <3
> 
> Anyway! Remember all you know is what’s in the transcript, which you can find [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185898155555/alright-weve-decided-to-do-some-cast-interviews)!!! (finally something for those interacting with the world to play with!)  
> Keep up with RR on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)

“So, Andrew just put you on a plane back to South Carolina while he... Does whatever he’s doing?” Dan asked. 

The entire RR team sat in the Towers lounge on Tuesday morning. Everyone piled onto the couches the moment they arrived, expecting answers that Renee didn’t really have to give. 

Nonetheless -

“Yes,” Renee nodded her chin down in finality of the answer. That was it, black and white, plain and simple. 

“And you’re not going to tell us what it is?” Dan had a mustard headwrap tied atop her head. It pulled back the planes of her face and made her eyes look all the more striking. 

Or scary.

If you didn’t know Dan. 

“No.” 

The truth was, Renee knew very little of what was going on anyway. She didn’t know exactly where Andrew was, but she knew who he was with. She also knew it was important to Andrew, for her to keep her mouth shut about it for now - so mouth shut, she would keep. 

Stress seeped into Dan’s eyes and Renee watched its steady progress as it seeped in. Renee felt guilty as Dan rubbed at them, annoyance showing in every movement she made. But, she’d feel worse giving up the story Andrew told her. 

The story about two boys meeting at the Grand Canyon. About how Andrew wanted to protect  _ Alex _ from Drake. About how they’d made a promise, and Andrew felt like he’d failed in that promise. 

It was all just so... incredibly Andrew. To take something that most people would wave off as a fond memory and use it as a catalyst for an international search - to take the entire burden on himself and convince himself of his unyielding guilt, until he could see this thing through until whatever end. 

Sure, his methods weren’t always the best. But, the truth of the matter was, Andrew was one of the best people Renee knew. She would never  _ say _ that to him, because he would deny it till he was blue in the face - but, he cared harder than any person she knew. He was a protector; had been for as long as Renee had known him and apparently, had been since he was a child, too. 

Renee was sure, deep down, it had something to do with not being able to protect himself when he was small and vulnerable. But, that wasn’t really for her to say, was it?

She sighed and crossed her legs, sinking back into the couch. Scanning over the team, she caught Allison’s eye and got a wink in response. Renee cleared her throat and inhaled a quick, deep breath. 

_ Focus.  _

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, I really am. But, I trust Andrew... What he’s doing now is incredibly important to the case, and it’s equally as important that we allow him the time he needs to get it done. I know him. He’ll check in and let us know how he is, what his status is, etc. So, for now-”

“For now,” Dan interrupted, dropping her hands between her separated knees. “We just have to sit on our hands, waiting for him to call.” She nodded and rolled her neck. “What are we supposed to tell our listeners? How are we supposed to keep engagement up if we’re not releasing episodes?” Dan scoffed and shook her head, throwing a hand up to gesture at nothing, “We have the audio notes from California to release, but that’s it. When will he record again?”

_ You’re guess is as good as mine - _

Was what she wanted to say. Instead, she chose a more diplomatic response and started to open her mouth to repeat that she didn’t know, nor did she have any answers. But, Allison stepped in before a word could pass her lips. 

“She  _ said _ she didn’t know,  _ Captain _ . Like, god damn. How many different ways do you need to hear it?” Allison, with her long nails and blond hair and sharp eyes and - “Do y’all not trust Minyard or something? Do y’all not trust him to get this shit done?” She directed towards Dan, perfectly manicured brows furrowed and chin pulled back. 

Dan rolled her eyes. “Of course we do-”

“Then get off her dick,” Allison stood, one brow raised and clearly done with the conversation. Renee  _ did not _ watch the progress her long legs made as they moved from the couch, back towards the break room - blond hair swinging behind her. 

From beside Renee on the couch, she caught movement from Seth out of the corner of her eye. But, when she looked, all he did was raise both brows at her. Renee ducked her head before he could see her face heat. 

Dan stood too and looked to Renee. Clearly, she didn’t like what she was about to say because her hands were on her hips and her brows were furrowed. “Fine.” Then, as if catching her tone, she groaned at herself and shook her head. “Fine,” she said softer. “I know he’s doing all he can. Just... please keep us posted, okay? I don’t know what we’re going to tell listeners, but I guess we’ll just have to figure it out.” She turned and made her way to her office. 

Renee looked back to Seth, who had King in his lap. She, too, was watching Renee. 

“Yes?” She asked. 

_ Say what you want to say, Seth.  _

He just shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, gathered King in his arms, and headed for the sound booth. 

-

“I have an idea.”

Renee sat in Dan’s office a few days later. She’d heard from Andrew that he was fine, but nothing beyond that and she didn’t push. Still, she had no real idea where he was or how it was going with Nathaniel, but she trusted him. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem like there was going to be any releases or updates soon, so she had to think. 

“Is it a way to get Minyard back in the studio?” Dan asked, not looking away from her computer. Dan had one hand propped beneath her chin and the other tapping away at her mouse. 

“No,” Renee started, crossing one leg over the other and brushing her skirt out. “But, it’s a way to maybe up engagement.”

That seemed to catch Dan’s attention. Turning her head over her shoulder, she stopped what she was doing and said slowly, “I’m listening...”

_ Good. _

A little spark of adrenaline pulsed through Renee’s veins, because it  _ was _ in fact, a good idea. It would get people involved, excited, something to chew on while they waited for... whatever it was, they were waiting for. 

“Well, what if we did team interviews? I know we talked about doing them just on the blog - but what if we sat in front of a camera and answered questions. We could put it on the website, let people know what we’re up to.” 

Dan paused for a moment, then dragged her eyes around her colorful office, before back at Renee. Dan gave her a look. “We’re not up to anything. We’re hanging around like sitting ducks, waiting for Minyard to call.”

_ Dan. _

Renee sighed, composed herself, then gave Dan a small smile. “I know,” she nodded, because she did, in fact, know. “But,” Renee shrugged. “Come on, Dan. Let’s do this. It’ll be fun. I’ll take care of everything.” She motioned behind her. “We’ll just grab people when we can and do the interviews. Seth can help me put them all together.”

Dan looked at her for a moment, then a second longer than that. Her eyes narrowed, not unhappily - she was figuring it out in her head. Renee could see the cogs turning, the numbers rising, the excitement that could potentially build. The decision came with a light in Dan’s eyes as she nodded and tapped her desk. “Okay. I mean, we’ve got nothing else right now. So, make it happen and we’ll see how it turns out.”

-

Since Seth was the one helping Renee with this entire thing, who better than to interview first? 

They’d rented the camera from the tech department that was open due to graduate projects over the summer, and set it up in the lounge on a tripod. Seth pushed chairs around, centered everything, and made the area look surprisingly presentable. One of the ridiculous orange chairs rested against the white wall and beside it was a potted palm. On the other, against the wall, he had pushed the chair close to a light fixture that would  _ ‘add a little something’  _ and  _ ‘balance the joint out’. _ Renee didn’t question him. Just nodded and got the camera focused and ready by the time he was ready to begin. 

Seth moved to sit, then quickly made an ‘ah!’ sound, before disappearing into the sound booth and grabbing King from wherever she was -most likely- happily situated. On his way back, he smirked and wagged his brows towards Renee. “Just to piss Minyard off.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

Once Seth sat and king curled herself up comfortably between his legs, Renee cleared her throat and lifted her hand to the  **Record** button. “Are we good?”

With a gesture to begin, Renee nodded and hit the button. 

[ Record On ] 

“Alright. Perhaps we should begin by stating what this is.” Renee began. 

Seth nodded his head and smiled towards the camera. 

“We are going to sit down and ask the members of the Red Rabbits Team a few listener questions we’ve received over the course of this entire podcast. Seth here, will be helping me, so I thought who better to start with?”

Seth, still with his smile, shrugged and tilted his head. “Me, of course.” Then  _ winked _ . 

Renee rolled her eyes again good naturedly and looked down at her pad. “A charmer, as you all can see,” Seth wagged his brows. “So, first question. This is one that I think has been on a lot of people’s minds, according to the asks we’ve gotten. Why DJ S3X?”  _ This is ridiculous. _ “With a three?”  _ It’s the perfect distraction. _ “What deep and important meaning does this name have for you?” She could barely get through the question without laughing, but Seth didn’t bother holding back.

His smile only grew into that big grin of his and Renee felt a burst of affection well up inside of her. Seth was one of the most genuinely  _ himself _ people she knew. 

_ He knows it too. _

He shrugged and answered exactly the way she knew he would. “Because my beats always fire. My mixes are unique, fresh. I don’t play the shit they put on the radio. I find those underground, soundcloud gems you don’t knows out there and make sure you still get some mainstream samples.” His grin turned to a half smile and there was a twinkle in his eye that even the camera picked up, “I like my music like I like my sex - exciting and engaging. I want to  _ feel _ something with it. And that’s why I’m DJ S3X.”

Renee briefly thought of Allison, before shaking her head and raising her brows high. “Right,” She started, then chuckled quietly to herself to distract the question poking in her mind.

_ Not your business. _

Moving on. 

“Okay, Mr. S3X. What about in the studio here? You don’t just do Red Rabbits, you also work on all the shows that are produced through TFN. Which one is your favorite to work on?”

Seth made a humming noise and stroked King’s fur a few times before answering. “Honestly? Probably Red Rabbits. Sometimes-” he paused, as if considering it, then rephrased, “-all the time, the shit’s really fucked up.” He motioned towards himself with the hand that wasn’t buried in King’s fur. “I mean, I’ve been through shit, just like everyone else here. So, it’s hard, at times, to listen to Minyard’s notes and the podcast and not get sucked back into the bad times. But,” he shrugged, “it makes me feel like I’m part of somethin’ big, you know? Like, if we can really find them and help them, it’ll add some extra points to my karma.” 

Renee understood that. Really, she got it and his words hit harder than she’d expected. Seth was like that sometimes. An absolute... well, idiot, sometimes. But others, he’d say something profound and meaningful and maybe that’s one of the reasons why she admired him. 

Nonetheless, she nodded and found a way to laugh in his humor. “I’m sure it will,” she smiled. Then, couldn’t help herself. “You’re a good guy, Seth. I bet your karma’s just fine.”

That’s when Seth’s smile turned into a purse of his lips. He shook his head and turned contemplative for a minute. “I dunno...” he shrugged one shoulder. “You knew me back in the day. When I was fresh in college and the worst fuckin’ version of myself I could be. With the... Drugs and sex and booze and all that shit. Nothin’ else really mattered because I was so fuckin’  _ angry _ all the time. I think,” he looked down at King and scratched behind her ear. Renee could almost hear her purr from where she sat behind the camera. “I think a lot of it was internalized self-hate. Not bein’ able to accept some shit, I dunno. Anyway, kudos to all of you for puttin’ up with me then, to be honest. Fuck knows how you did it.”

He  _ was _ bad back then. A raging homophobe that always had something to say. Finding Seth sober was something to be congratulated, even if it lasted a day. Renee prayed for him a lot back then - prayed and when praying didn’t work, she used a punching bag to prevent the need to hit him herself. But - But. He was better now. It was like in the years between her degrees and returning to PSU, he’d done a full 180. She was proud of him. Immensely so. 

“I remember,” Renee nodded. “I also remember Wymack pulling you into his office your senior year and telling you that you had a job waiting at the Foxhole Network if you could get it together. But not until then.” TFN gave him something to fight for.

Seth huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. So, I got my shit together.”

Renee nodded. “You got it together,” she tapped the pad in her lap and tilted her head. She didn’t know if she should say this, but continued anyway, “It’s why Andrew has a grudging respect for you now, you know. Despite all the homophobic comments you used to taunt him with. He sees how far you’ve come, and he sees you admit you were wrong about a lot of things back then. I think he would never admit it, but he’s proud of you. Just like the rest of us.”

The corner of Seth’s lips lifted up. He rolled his eyes, but Renee knew it was only because he didn’t know what else to do. 

Seth mumbled, “He’s a real one. Minyard.” Then sighed and raised his voice a bit, “He’s an asshole, but at least you know where you stand with him. I miss that fucker. No word on when he’s comin’ home?”

_ No. _

“Not yet,” Renee looked back down at her notes. With a deep breath, she glanced up at him playfully. “Alright. Let’s play a lightning round. I’m going to say a word and you’re going to say the first thing that pops into your mind. Sound good?”

Seth sat up a little straighter. “Hit me.”

Renee cleared her throat and started. “Burger.”

“Fries.”

“Car.”

“Fast.”

“Dan.”

“Captain.”

“Wymack.”

“Dadmack.”

Renee laughed at that one before continuing.

“Andrew.”

“Asshole.”

“Allison.”

“Legs.”

_ True _

“Renee.”

“Sweet.”

“King.”

“ _ Mine _ !” Seth lifted King into his arms from his lap, then leaned back into the chair and laughed as he squeezed her. She let out the most pathetic meow and didn’t even try to jump out of his arms. Seth smirked at that, kissing the top of her head before letting her back down, “For real, though. Minyard’s gonna be fuckin buggin’ when he gets back and realizes his cat likes me more than him.”

Renee grinned and shook her head. “That cat is freakishly attuned to Andrew. Honestly, half the reason I know he’s okay is because King’s so calm. I think she’d know if something happened to him.”

“Yeah, well. She’s my best friend while he’s not here.” He leaned down so his face was close to hers. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?” He nuzzled her face.

“Andrew will be a jealous Papa when he gets home, I’m sure,” Renee said, then glanced at the time on the camera.  _ Wrap it up.  _  “Okay, Is there anything else you want us to know about Seth Gordon, sound mixer and DJ extraordinaire?”

Seth looked at her for a moment and cocked his head. “You’re really not going to ask?”

“Ask what?” Renee smiled sweetly. Her best defense. She knew what he meant.

“About Allison. Aren’t you dying to know if we’re still fucking? I know there’s something up with you.”

_ Nope. Abort. _

Renee reached up and turned off the camera. 

[ Record Off ]

She closed her notebook and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stood. “Nope. Allison can do whatever she wants. What’s between you two is your business.” She moved to turn to take down the camera when Seth leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. 

King meowed in his lap as he said, “We’re not.” His eyes quickly flicked down at her to make sure she was okay, then back up at Renee. “Still fucking, I mean. It was only a few times and she made it known it was never anythin’ more than that. She cut it off pretty quick…once she locked her sights on you.”

_ What? No. Nope.  _

Renee felt her cheeks heat and Seth dropped her wrist. “Seth, I really don’t need to know.” She continued taking down the camera and moved to shove it back in its bag.

“Okay. But now you do.” He grinned and shrugged for the millionth time. “I’m just sayin’. You’re a good fuckin’ person. Go get it if you want it. She wants it, too. Trust me.” He sunk back into the chair and finished with his moving, King climbed up onto his shoulder.

“And that wouldn’t bother you?” Renee asked, skeptically.

Seth looked at her, puzzled. “Why would it? Allison’s a grown ass woman. She’s her own person. I don’t own her. If we were in a like, real fuckin’ adult relationship, maybe. But we’re not.” Seth opened his hands, palms up “Everyone should do what makes ‘em happy, as long a shit don’t hurt anyone else.”

Renee gave him one long look, before turning her head away as she nodded. 

_ Everyone should do what makes them happy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated! We will have a few more of these, so bare with us! We promise the next full chapter is a comin ^^ Keep up on our [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for some fun interactions!! Thank you again and we love you all so SO MUCH!!!!


	17. Red Rabbits Team Interviews: Dan Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renee interviews TFN™ Assistant Director, Dan Wilds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from the Creators!  
> Oh no! Another cast interview... woops ^^ We still have two more to go... Honestly, we're hoping this holds yall over until we're done with the next full chapter! Bare with us and we hope you enjoy some more insight on these characters and whats going on at the office!!
> 
> Anyway! Remember all you know is what’s in the transcript, which you can find [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185933861775/second-team-interview-is-of-our-lovely-captain)!!! (finally something for those interacting with the world to play with!)  
> Keep up with RR on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)

Renee’s next interview was with Dan, who was harder to pin down due to her busy schedule. Renee wasn’t even sure what she could’ve been working on that had her rushing around the office, answering emails like tips were still rolling in by the hundreds. 

Which, they were. But, they didn’t really matter much anymore. Renee had told Dan as much (in just as many words, too).  

But, nonetheless. Eventually she managed to catch Dan when she was refueling on coffee and left over Thin Mints in the break room. With little more than a nod of her chin towards the orange chair, Dan groaned, popped a full cookie in her mouth, washed it down with steaming hot coffee and nodded. 

Once she was sitting, Dan peeled her red lips away from her pearly teeth and asked, “anything?”

Renee sat herself across from her, just as she had before, only this time, the camera was being manned by Seth. He sat on the arm of Renee’s chair, playing around with the settings on the camera to get some _‘nice ass close-up shots’_ , as he answered for her, “Perfect, as always, my sistah.”

Both Dan and Renee groaned at the same time. Dan also rolled her eyes and smoothed her hands down her red skirt as she mumbled, “Yeah yeah yeah.” Situating herself until she was sophisticatedly comfortable, she sighed and looked up with a playful smile. “Ready.”

“Okay and -” Seth said, quickly checking with Renee until Renee gave the nod, “Action.”

[ Record On ]

Completely unnecessary, but Renee just smiled instead of saying so and instead, began. “Dan Wilds, TFN Assistant Director, bad Seth-bleep-this-out extraordinaire, and dear Captain,” just because she knew it would make Dan laugh. It did. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head with an even bigger roll of her eyes. “Tell us a little about you. How did you come to be a director at the Foxhole network?”

Dan’s red lipstick shone high and glossy and stood out against her rich dark skin. Her eyes, light brown, twinkled with amusement - likely watching as Seth gestured for her to answer, as if she didn’t already get the cue. Her eyes flicked from him, then to Renee as she gave her a look as if saying ‘the fuck is he doing?’, before she replied, “Well, I went to school here at PSU for communications. Wymack put me in charge of some of the productions my senior year and when I graduated, it just kind of naturally fell into place that I would keep working here.” She shrugged and looked around the room, as if recalling a good memory. “I didn’t want to leave, if I’m being honest. The Foxhole Network is my home.”

 _The Foxhole Network is my home_. Renee felt that was true for all of them. It was... a sanctuary for people like them. A ragtag team of broken people, put together and somehow fitting in a way no one would expect - for years, too.

“I think we all feel that way to some extent. Even Allison,” Renee commented and did not miss the look Dan gave her. Clearing her throat, she moved on, “So, tell us what life is like for Dan Wilds? What do you do outside of TFN?”

Dan raised a stern brow at her. “Is this your subtle way of asking me if I’m seeing anyone?”

Seth laughed from beside her and Renee couldn’t help but follow. “No! No, I know better than that.” She elbowed Seth in the side to get him to stop. He pressed back and beamed _that_ smile down at her. “I’m just wondering what you like to do when you’re not dealing with us hooligans.”

“Hey!” Seth said, nudging her side more. “My hooligan days are behind me, thank you very much.”

“Seth,” Dan interrupted. “You will always be a hooligan at heart. Don’t try to deny it.” She then shrugged and her big eyes turned all playfully doey, “It’s part of what makes you so boyishly charming.”

“Word? Tell me more...”

Renee laughed and waved a hand at him. “Okay, Okay enough! Moving on! Dan, if you would be so kind - life outside the studio?”

It was, actually, an honest question. The team saw each other all the time, but outside of the tower, they didn’t hang out as much as they used to. In college it was an entire affair. Friday nights going out and partying, Saturdays spent with most of them hungover, and Renee taking care of them all. A few spontaneous trips over their breaks - even Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Easter spent together at whoever’s family was still together and welcoming. But, as they grew older, life has just become busy and careers outside of TFN pulled them apart. It’s been a while since Renee’s been able to spend time with Dan, especially since this investigation started. She would like to... again. Afterall,

_I miss my best friend._

But, that isn’t why Renee asked. She asked because she wanted to make sure Dan wasn’t overloading herself like she was so known to do. She wanted to make sure that Dan was separating work from her personal life - that she was going out and giving herself room to burn off steam. Dan was probably the most hardworking person Renee knew (excluding Andrew). She deserved to have fun once in a while. 

“Well,” Dan sighed and waved an errant hand, “Just because I _know_ people will ask, _no._ I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. It’s hard to find a partner that’s down with how much I work. Also-” she shrugged. “I’m a bad bitch and I don’t need, nor want, someone to take care of me. Men have a hard time with that sometimes.”

Another reason why Renee loved and admired Dan so much. She _was_ in fact, a bad ~~bitch~~. Renee’s witnessed Dan eat men alive, then spit them back out. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Renee said, nodding and smiling a secret smile just for dan. “Then let me ask, who’s your perfect partner? Or, better question, who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Matt Boyd,” Dan replied, without hesitation. Then, uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward and squinted her eyes at Renee, “Have you seen him play?”

Dan Wilds, boss of TFN and other Exy fanatic. It’s why her and Kevin got along so well (most of the time). She helped him with researching Daily Exy and sometimes, Renee found her, Kevin, and Brianna - Kevin’s girlfriend (who he met through Dan) on the couch in the lounge, screaming at a game on Friday nights. Sometimes, Seth joined them. 

Which was why he nodded enthusiastically while she shook her head and commented, “He’s a good fuckin backliner. Just set that record and shit. How tall is he? 6’4?!”

“Most blocked attempts by a Backliner-” Dan added and shook her head. “The discipline that kind of training must take...” She sighed. “And you know he used to be an addict? I saw this whole interview with him talking about how he used to use and what it took for him to get clean. He volunteers at a youth shelter for at risk teens and also?” Dan stopped and bit her red lip. It didn’t smudge one bit. Renee would’ve been in awe if she didn’t see the look on Dan’s face. 

“Yes?” She urged, a small grin in place. 

“He’s fine as hell. Like - those Killmonger locs got me going,” she fanned her face, then stopped and looked at the camera. “We can edit this later, right?”

“I’m not editing shit-” Seth crowed, white, beaming, wide smile stretched fully across his face as he stretched out a hand and waved it at Dan - as if to help cool her down. “This is too fuckin’ good. The great Dan losing her composure.” Dan bristled and opened her lips to say something, but he quickly held his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey. You right about him, sis. Those locs got me goin’ too - can’t even front. Don’t be ashamed. You’d have to be blind not to see how fine he is.”

That worked. Dan laughed and made to kick him from her spot, which he expertly avoided. 

Renee whispered, “I work with children,” In the most admiring way possible. 

Dan laughed and settled back, crossing her legs and shaking her head, “Whatever, Gordon. I guess you’re right - anyway. I’m done waxing poetic about Matt Boyd’s hair. You want my serious answer?” She raised her brows.

“That wasn’t it?” Seth asked and Renee elbowed him again. 

“Let us know, Captain,” Renee urged. 

“I just hang out with friends when I can,” she shrugged. “Go get drinks and dance and just chill. You know my sisters from high school?” 

Her stage sisters. Believe it or not, Dan Wilds used to be a _dancer_. It’s what got her through high school and with enough money to push herself properly through college. Dan was a force to be reckoned with and never looked at her past like it’s something to be ashamed about. She wore her experiences like a badge of honor and Renee thought she was extraordinary for it. 

So, Renee nodded. She remembered Dan saying that she hadn’t been able to connect with them in recent years - just due to kids and careers, etc.

“Well, I’ve been getting to see them more and more and they’re amazing to have around when I’m having a shitty day.”

“I love that, Dan,” Renee said and meant it more than anything. “Good friends are so important when we need someone to vent to.” 

The smile Dan gave was smaller, but softer, warmer. 

“Right -” Renee inhaled, “So! I did this with Seth and I’m going to do this with you. A lightning round, if you will, of word association. I’ll say a word and you  say the first thing that comes to mind.”

Dan nodded, and Renee began.

“Burger.”

“Shake.”

“Car.”

“Maserati.”

“You still mad about that, huh?” Seth asked.

Renee shushed him, “Seth-” as both question for Dan and Seth himself.

“Smile.” (he did)

“Allison.”

“Unreasonable.”

The two of them still weren’t really seeing eye-to-eye. Renee thought she understood part of it. Dan and Allison had wildly different experiences as black women in the world. Renee thought, perhaps, it bothered Dan how blasé Allison could be about certain things - throwing money to fix problems, rather than working for them. Where as Allison, she saw her throwing money at things as a point of strength instead. They seemed to agree on some things, but Dan still rolled her eyes  at most of what left Allison’s lips. 

Nonetheless, there were several occasions in which she caught the two of them laughing about something or another.

It was usually about Seth.

_Anyway. Back to task,_

“Renee.”

“Favorite.”

“Aw, Dan,” Renee smile and put a hand to her chest.

Dan was a rock, a steady presence in the office and Renee’s life. She could lean on her if she wanted - but mostly, it was her company, her unrelenting honesty and compassion that Renee loved the most. 

“Yeah, yeah. No one’s surprised,” Seth said, rolling his eyes.

Renee continued.

“Andrew.”

“Difficult.”

_Not untrue._

“Wymack.”

“Dadmack.”

“That seems to be the consensus around here,” Renee said, and Dan laughed.

“He is, though. He’s everyone’s Dad even though he didn’t ask for it. Remember when we found out Kevin was his son? Kevin was like ‘Wymack’s my dad’ and we were like ‘Same you’re not special’.”

That day was something else. Kevin clearly expected them all to be surprised - but, from Renee’s point of view anyway... It was kind of obvious? Beyond the fact that they looked alike - Kevin clearly having some of Wymack’s traits like his skin, his hair, and the shape of his eyes. Once the truth was out in the open though, mannerisms started to show more and more. The way they stood, crossed their arms, and smiled - rare for both men. 

“Hmmm,” she thought back, “I remember it being a bit more dramatic than that,” she laughed, though nodded, “But yes, I know what you mean. Okay, Captain, is there anything else we need to know about Dan Wilds?”

Dan looked to consider that question for a moment or two. The answer she gave was... Well. It was Dan. “I guess just touching on Red Rabbits - that I’m committed to putting out the best podcast we can. I know it’s frustrating sometimes, when things are delayed or when we have no idea where our host is.” Dan looked at Renee pointedly, and she just smiled sweetly back at her. “But I promise I’m always working. Always pushing forward.”

Renee nodded and let that sweet smile turn into something more genuine, “You really are. You’re the hardest working person in this place, I think.”

Dan smiled and rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell Minyard that. Whatever the fuck he’s doing,” She gave another pointed, but more comical look. It softened as she sighed and shrugged, “Really though. I’m glad someone thinks so... but!” She clapped her hands, then tapped the arms of the chair three times. “Go! Both of you! I have very important directorial things to do. Cut!” She stood up and pulled down her skirt. 

“Mmmmmhm, sure-” Seth cooed. “Gonna watch replays of Boyd’s latest game. You know he just did a GQ spread, right?”

Dan paused, only her body in frame as she looked seriously to Seth. “I am not. I really ha- are you serious...?” her voice dipped quietly. 

“You’re welcome, Cap.” Seth smirked and turned the camera off. 

[ Record Off ]

Seth picked up the tripod with the camera, winked down at Renee, and hummed as he made his way back to sound booth. 

When Renee stood, she caught Dan at her computer through one of the glass windows of her office, typing away furiously at a google search on her computer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and thank you all so much for all the love and support!!! We promise we'll get to addressing that cliffhanger soon!!!  
> We love you all! Hope you enjoyed!


	18. Red Rabbits Team Interview: Renee Walker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth interviews Renee :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DJ Khaled voice* Another one...
> 
> Remember all you know is what’s in the transcript, which you can find [here](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/185956690245/third-team-interview-is-of-our-resident-angel)!!! (finally something for those interacting with the world to play with!)  
> Keep up with RR on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)

Allison was in Miami taking care of her business while Andrew was away, so Renee decided to go ahead and get her own interview out of the way. 

Sitting in the orange chair, she smiled as positions were reversed - Seth sitting across from her, camera at the ready, and her pad of questions resting on his lap. 

“You really gonna let me do this?” he asked, raising a brow at her skeptically as he scanned over the questions. 

“I really am.” She nodded and smiled because that was the point. Of course, she could’ve dragged Dan away from her work to do this interview very professionally. But -

Seth was a character. He was funny and sometimes dumb, but that was his charm. He would make her laugh and therefore, the audience as well. She thought it was a good choice. 

“Your funeral, I guess,” he said, shrugging. 

_ I suppose so. _

Renee just smiled fondly. 

“Okay,” He started with a deep inhale and hit the record button.

[ Record On ]

“Ms. Walker. Question numero uno - why are you so damn sweet?” He faked as if he were reading the pad, then squinted up at her. 

She couldn’t help it. Her smile turned into a laugh and her shoulders that she hadn’t realized were tense, immediately relaxed. “Seth, be serious!”

“I am!” His eyes turned wide and he pulled his chin back as if insulted. “Inquiring minds want to know and I would be remiss to deny them!” One hand held up in surrender and he motioned like he was placating  _ her _ . “Seriously, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you annoyed. What gives?”

“I mean-” She felt her brows furrow and for a moment, Renee realized she had to think about the answer. 

She supposed, it wasn’t really that she never got upset or annoyed - she most certainly  _ did _ and probably way more often than she really should. But, the fact of the matter was, no matter what or who she was mad or annoyed at, she’s had worse - she’s seen worse - she’s been  _ forgiven _ for worse. Therefore, what was the point...?

“Well,” She started, understanding as the answer formed in her mind. “I suppose, this is going to sound silly to some of you, I guess. But, I suppose it’s grace.” She gave a half shrug. 

“Grace?” Seth asked. He rose a brow, “Explain, please, Madame.”

_ How? _

She inhaled a deep breath and said, “Oh, I’m sure I’m going to explain this terrible, as I think it’s personal and different to each person, but I’ll try.” Renee tilted her head and pulled an invisible  ~~_but surely, there_ ~~ piece of lint from her skirt as she debated whether or not to start where she was. Nonetheless, she ran with it. “I’ve done some really terrible things in my life.” When she lifted her eyes, Seth’s were soft and open. He already knew the story, but he wasn’t being the sometimes obnoxious, oft times upbeat, man she was so used to. He was listening - giving her the floor. 

_ Oh, how you’ve grown, Seth. _

“I know it doesn’t seem like I could do much with, well.” She motioned towards herself. “But, I have. And I’ve seen some terrible things too - orchestrated a good number of them. Some, I regret - some, I don’t. But, I’m a bad person trying very hard to be good.” Renee nodded. That felt right. “I go into every situation remembering that I’m coming from a different place and circumstance than anyone else. So, I always try to have and give grace.”

Seth nodded slowly and pursed his lips for a pause to think, before asking, “So, like... forgiveness?”

Renee moved her head side to side. “Kind of... It’s forgiveness, when maybe forgiveness isn’t asked for or merited. It’s taking time to stop and recognize that you have no idea what another person has walked through in their life, or is currently walking through. I know people hear the word ‘grace’ and think religion, and it’s not a secret that I’m a spiritual person - but... I think it goes beyond that. I think compassion and forgiveness are something the world could use more of.”

Seth looked to consider her answer for a moment, before nodding. “You know. I honestly think it’s by the grace of others that I’m even here - that I was given another chance. That’s why you’re the favorite, you know.” A smile grew. “You say shit like this and you’re like a little baby koala we all want to cuddle.”

“Koala’s have chlamydia,” She responded, trying very hard to keep her face serious. That was something Andrew would say. 

_ I hope everything’s going alright.  _

Seth rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well. Who hasn’t had chlamydia?” Seth didn’t give her a moment to react. He moved so he was in the sight of the camera. “Get tested and then donate to your local planned parenthood, people.” He sat back in his chair and Renee?

She just grinned and grinned and grinned until she laughed, shaking her head at him. He really was the best of them. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Enough talk about STD’s. Get your mind out of the gutter, Walker. More pressing things must be asked. Like - your friendship with minyard. For example, why the fuck?”

Renee gasped, “And to think you were just telling me how he’s a  _ ‘real one’. _ ”

Seth guffawed - on purpose - but guffawed nonetheless. “And I stand by that! But you can’t blame me for wondering! You’re just so  _ nice _ . And he’s just so...  _ not. _ ”

“What is nice, really?” The response was automatic, because - she thought - this was something she thought of a lot. It was a question that came up more times than she’d really like to count. “People think I’m nice because I smile and speak a kind word. I could probably leave this place today and go kill someone. Andrew?” She rose a single brow. “He’s nice because he says what he  _ means _ . He’s incredibly loyal to his inner circle and he would literally die for those closest to him, if it came down to it.” Renee looked down at her nails and ignored the concern deeply seeded in her chest for him. She knew he was okay  ~~_he had to be_ ~~ , but she worried, nonetheless. With a deep breath, she looked back up at Seth and continued. “Andrew and I understand each other. We both have something...  _ else _ that lingers underneath - even now, when we’re both living good lives and thriving in our own ways. I trust him,” She nodded. “With my life. He’s the best person I know. His methods of showing how good he is may be... questionable. But he  _ is _ good.” 

Seth squinted at her for a long moment, but ultimately conceded. Naturally, he responded with something comical, “I’ll believe you, but only because of the koala thing,” and promptly moved on. “Let’s move onto the fun shit. Lightning round. You ready?”

“Ready.”

Seth picked up her legal pad and pushed up invisible glasses as he cleared his throat and moved it so Renee couldn’t see what he’s written. “Then let’s begin, Ms. Walker. Shoes.”

“Boots.”

“Fork.”

“Spoon.”

“Airplane.”

“Tired.”

Seth laughed at that one before continuing.

“Seth.”

“Fun.”

“Damn right. Dan.”

“Mother.”

“Allison.”

Renee took a fraction of a second too long to answer this one. Too many words at once and she landed on the safest.

“Fashion.”

Seth raised a brow at her. She thought he was going to wag them or say something they’d both regret - but, he moved on. 

“Wymack.”

“Dadmack.”

“We need to make him a fucking t-shirt. Or a mug that says  **#1 Dadmack** ” Seth mumbled.

“No, Kevin will get jealous.”

He grinned, “you’re right. We all know Dan is Dadmack’s favorite.” Then continued as Renee pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh while shaking her head. 

“No... Dan is just the eldest.”

Seth huffed a laugh, but then shushed her.

“This is lightning. Like fast. You’re ruining it. Andrew.”

“Friend.”

“King.”

“Crookshanks.”

Seth stopped and looked up at her. “What the fuck? Like from Harry Potter?”

“She’s part kneazle. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

Seth held up a hand. “I would never question you. If you say it, I believe you.”

“Good,” Renee smiled wide, then leaned forward and took Seth’s hand. The camera was still rolling, but she wanted him and the audience to know, “You’re an amazing human being and I think the incredibly fun life you’re living now is the life you deserve.”

Seth blinked owlishly at her for a second. “Okay, interview over. Gonna go cry like a fuckin’ bitch, brb.”

[ Record Off ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there! I promise! The last interview will be posted tonight and oh... oh it's a good one ^^  
> Kudos and comments always appreciated! Thank you all so much for the love! We're really happy a lot of you are liking these interviews to tide you over until the real excitement begins!


	19. Red Rabbits Team Interview: Allison Reynolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renee interviews Allison Reynolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Alright, so this chapter most definitely needs a preface. Now, keep in mind, you haven't seen whats been going on between Allison and Renee for the past few months. We've tried to express whats been growing and idk if we were successful, but we tried!  
> Nonetheless, a warning going ahead:  
> There is, in fact, an intimate moment between Renee and Allison. It's brief, not explicit, and for US makes sense because we know whats been going on behind the scenes. Some of you may like it, others may not. If you don't want to read this kind of content but still want to see what happens in the interview, you can read the transcript [HERE](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/post/186030196815/third-team-interview-is-of-our-sponsor-allison)! As well as skip to the end. But like I said, it's very brief, nothing sexual, just a sweet moment :)  
> Anyway! That's all we have to say I think... We're trying to get the next full chapter out as fast as possible. Hopefully, it'll be tonight, but no promises. I (BloodyDamnit - it's my fault we're so late) still have about 13k left to rewrite. I'm moving as fast as I can so fingers crossed and wish me luck!
> 
> Without further ado, here's our last interview :) Remember! Keep up with RR on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/)!

Allison returned from Miami a few days after Renee’s interview. She entered the Tower in a flurry of Dunkin Donuts and handbags and some expensive perfume that Renee caught a bit of as she passed. Allison’s lips shone with a high gloss and her blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that swung side to side as she walked to the break room. 

 _How does she do that...?_  

“Come get ‘em before Seth inhales everything!” she called out as she walked past, locking eyes with Renee and winking automatically. 

Renee’s heart _did not_ skip a beat. 

It was an odd thing, really. Allison had come and gone over the course of her stay in South Carolina, and it never _really_ made an impact on Renee. But these past few weeks, something _sparked_ and Renee couldn’t help but stare. She thought that she’d been getting away with it too, but it seemed as though she hadn’t been as careful as she thought. 

_‘She cut it off pretty quick…once she locked her sights on you.’_

Renee snapped out of whatever _it_ was, when Seth came up behind her and whispered, “She’s home early...” right in her ear. She quickly flinched away from him and was going to shoot him a glare, until she realized that he was already five feet ahead of her. “Fuckin _LOVE_ you Reynolds. Comin’ in fuckin’ clutch with the mad donuts. Be still my,” then muffled, shoving a munchkin in his mouth, “fuckin’ heart!”

“Ugh,” Allison said, stirring her iced water with slices of citrus mixed throughout. “You’re a - Renee!” Her face lit up, hazel/green eyes going wide as she realized Renee was standing on the doorway. 

_‘She wants it, too. Trust me.’_

One moment she was sneering at Seth and the next she was pulling Renee into a crushing hug that felt - 

“How was everything in Miami?” Renee asked, releasing herself from the embrace. 

Allison, seemingly unaffected like she was with _everything_ , brushed Renee’s bangs off her forehead, then shrugged. “Same old, same old. It’s exhausting being me,” she teased with a smile. 

Renee smiled back and it wasn’t until Seth walked past them with the entire carton of munchkins saying, “I’ll go get the camera,” that she broke her eyes away from _whatever_ ** _this_** was. 

“Camera?” Allison asked, taking a sip from her water and raising a brow. 

“Yeah, so-” She turned her head over her shoulder to watch as Seth smirked back at her, then disappeared into the soundbooth.

_Focus. You’re doing great, Renee._

“So,” She said clearer, focusing back on Allison. “We’re kind of just doing something fun for the listeners while Andrew’s out of the office. And by _‘something fun_ ’, I mean team interviews. I’ve already done myself, Seth, and Dan. If you’re up for it, I’d love to interview you too.”

“Me?” Allison asked, tilting her head. “I know everything I say is unbelievably interesting, but I don’t see what I could have to really contribute-”

“You have plenty. And, our audience loves you. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Allison’s shiny, full lips pursed and Renee did _not_ look at them as she took another sip from her metal straw and thought about it. Renee knew she was going to agree, but typical Allison stretched it on. “Nothing to promote though? Like? Just an interview?”

“We have the podcast to promote! We need to find ways to keep the audience engaged and what better way to do that, than asking Miss Allison Reynolds about what word comes to mind when prompted with ‘burger’.”

“Oh... You’re right. I’m sure the audience is absolutely dying to hear my answer...” Allison smirked, then bumped her hip against Renee’s as she headed out of the breakroom and into the lounge. “I’m down. We doin’ it now?”

“Yes, if that’s okay. We’re trying to get these out as fast as possible, so now would be best, if you don’t mind.” Renee wanted to follow her, but instead, she fixed herself some tea from what Allison had brought. Once she was finished and whatever was tickling under her skin had gone away, she met Allison in the lounge to join her on the couch. 

However, just as she did, Seth emerged from the sound booth with the tripod over his shoulder. He looked like he was ready to go, but halted his steps and looked between Renee and Allison. _Something_ played on the corners of his lips as he said, “You know, the lighting is best in Andrew’s office. All of us did our interviews right there.” He pointed towards the orange chair. “But, I think you’ll look much better in the sun.” He then made his way towards Andrew’s office without confirming with Renee or asking her opinion (not like she really expected that from him). The door was already cracked, so Seth kicked it the rest of the way open. 

“Fuck! I’ve always wanted to fucking do that-” his voice trailed as he entered what was, customarily, off limits to everyone else. 

“Ohhh... We’re poking the bear so early in the morning. I fucking love it,” Allison beamed and kicked her heeled feet on the table. Her toes were painted pink. 

Something nagged at the side of Renee’s brain and she realized it was that Seth shouldn’t be in Andrew’s office. She only got out the words, “Seth, don-”

But he was back in the lounge in a matter of moments - shaking his shoulders in a shiver and mumbling, “I feel like he’s fucking watching me. What’s that shit called? Pavlov’s dogs? With the saliva?” 

Allison ‘mhmed’ as she took another sip. 

“Yeah well, he’s pavlov and I’m the god damned dog. Fuckin’ conditioned me to be- ANYWAY!” He shook his head and took a deep breath. Pointing over his shoulder he changed the subject, “Everything is all set up. I’m gonna go...” he trailed off and disappeared into the soundbooth, closing his door. 

_Slick, Seth. Really slick..._

“Come on then,” Allison stood and looked down at her with her hand held out. When Renee just stared at it, she wiggled her lavender nails and smiled. 

Renee, despite whatever doubt she may have had in her head, took the offer. Instead of letting Allison lead the way, however, she took a deep breath and pulled her towards Andrew’s office, stopping only once to grab her legal pad from one of the meeting tables along the way. “He’s not wrong. The lighting is nice,” she commented, as if she were utterly unaffected. 

 _Her hand is soft_. 

“The Monster will be pissed, I love it,” Allison cooed.

“No, he won't mind... much,” Renee didn’t know where that came from, but she smiled over her shoulder and for some reason,

_it felt natural. Easy._

King was the only one to come in here with Andrew gone, and she was there now. Curled in a ball in her chair, she basked in the sunlight streaming through the wide window, one paw over her eyes and the other twitching in a dream. Seth had set up the tripod across from her and turned Andrew’s desk chair around for Renee to sit in for the interview. 

Allison let go of her hand and headed immediately for King. Picking her up, she set her down on her cat tree - but before she left her alone and took her spot, Allison gave King a long stroke. Once King was satisfied and settled, Allison kicked off her heels and sat down with a contented sigh. 

Renee took up her own spot behind the camera and adjusted a few settings so the exposure wasn’t so high. Allison looked...  The sun shone beautifully against her deep caramel skin and the light made her hair seem only brighter. The green in her eyes was amplified against hazel and rimmed with dark lashes that cast shadows against her cheeks. 

“I do look amazing in natural light,” Allison commented, a smirk tugging at her lips while she crossed one leg over the other. 

Renee glanced up at her and felt her smile before she could stop it. Decidedly, she didn’t respond. Instead, she just cleared her throat and looked down at the pad on her lap. Flipping past a couple of pages, she inhaled deeply and caught Allison watching her from her periphery. 

In the past few weeks, they hadn’t really been alone - if that made any sense? In other words, there wasn’t ever really a moment where they could talk without someone else walking in or around. Florida was different. That was searching and stress and getting to know each other. But now? They’d spent weeks together and in those weeks, something floated in the air between them and that _something_ was a thing that Renee didn’t completely understand. All she knew was that her stomach tightened whenever she saw her - that her smiles were easier and humor flowed smoother. Everything felt _right_ and _easy_ and it wasn’t really like anything Renee had ever experienced before. Not _really_. 

Now, tucked away in Andrew’s office to conduct this interview, she realized that no one was going to bother them, no one was even going to check. The air was heavy with unanswered questions and the look Allison gave her didn’t feel _wrong_ , but it settled into cracks that Renee didn’t know could actually feel _right_. 

So, maybe it wasn’t a secret that she liked Allison. A lot. She was strong and gorgeous and real and Renee, as a rule, didn’t seek out relationships **_is that what this could be?_ ** She wanted something that would last, something she could fully to commit to without fear that it was going to fall apart at the seams. She wanted someone that would understand her and see past the facade she so dutifully kept up and 

_why does it feel like Allison can do all of that?_

**_Does do all of that._ **

_‘Go get it if you want it. She wants it, too. Trust me.’_

Does she...?

When Renee looked up, Allison’s gaze didn’t shift. She sat like the chair was a throne with her wrist dangling off one arm and eyes clear and assessing. 

“Ready?” Renee heard herself asking, her brows raised.

“Are you?” Allison responded, then nodded nonetheless. 

**_I think so._ **

[ Record On ] 

“So, Allison Reynolds. Fashion mogul and all around bad bitch.”

Allison laughed and wrinkled her nose, “That sounds so weird coming from you.”

Renee gave her a small smile and continued. “Tell us a bit about your being here in South Carolina. The listeners have heard your story and your reasoning for helping us in the search to find Mary and Nathaniel, but I think what I’m really asking is, why hang around? Especially since you have a whole life in Miami - an empire, really. Why Palmetto when you could go back there?”

Allison looked hard at Renee. The clarity in her eyes only intensified and the right side of her lips lifted as she cocked her head to the side. “I guess things are just too interesting here to leave.”

Renee could feel her cheeks begin to heat and quickly looked down to her notes so her hair fell into her face, hiding her blush. 

_She doesn’t mean me._

“Mmm...” Renee hummed. “So, I guess the real question is, what are you doing here - besides finding things interesting?” When Renee looked back up, her eyes automatically met hers. “Why stay? I’m sure there are far more interesting things happening in Miami.”

“You’d be surprised. Nothing so interesting there.” She stopped, and Renee raised her brow, imploring her to continue.

Allison sighed, briefly looked to her lavender nails, then kept going. “I like feeling useful,” she began. “I’m useful in Miami, of course - I _do_ run an entire fashion _‘empire’,_ ” she airquoted. “But, this is useful in a different way. _This_ doesn’t directly benefit me. Even if I’m just sorting through emails or making contacts that might be able to help us, or just paying for a place for y’all to stay, it’s something.” She shrugged and pulled her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I want to find them, too. I want to see where they’ve been and if they need help. I want to lend a hand. Not for the sake of saying ‘I did it’, like some of y’all will believe,” she looked into the camera. “But because I want them to be okay. That’s all.”

 _Allison_ -

Renee watched her for a long moment, letting what she just said hang in the air. She respected Allison, greatly - and had since the moment she met her. Not because she was beautiful or whatever else. But because she was assertive within _herself_ , and she was caring, and confident, and when things mean something to her, she gives whatever it is her all. 

“Will you continue, then?” Renee asked, not even referring to her pad. “After we find them. Andrew - he’s pretty certain we will. Will you stop once they’re found? Or, will you stick around?”

Allison uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped in front of her. “I guess that depends.”

“On?”

“You.”

_What...?_

Renee blinked a few times before reaching up and turning the camera off.

[ Record Off ] 

“Me?”

Allison rubbed her glossy lips together and then nodded. “I’m going to be real with you, Renee, because I feel like we’ve been dancing around this. I haven’t wanted to scare you off, but,” She shrugged and sat up straight to motion between them. “This isn’t normally how I operate. If I see something I want, I take it. That’s it. But you...? You’re different.”

_This is it, Renee._

Renee calmly set her notepad down and looked Allison dead in her eye. There was no use dancing around whatever this ‘ _it’_ was, nor was there any use in denying how she felt and had _been_ feeling. “What is it, exactly, that you want?”

Allison began to smile again. It was small and it wasn’t _shy_ , but it was gentle. She motioned between them. “This. Us. I want to see where it can go. I don’t want something fast and easy, like Seth. Sure, that was fun, that was _simple_. But this - I don’t think this is simple. Is it?”

“No.” The response was quick, automatic. There wasn’t room for thought, nor was it needed. “It’s not,” Renee shook her head. Then, heard herself say, “I don’t do casual, Allison. I’m not going to sit here and insult you by pretending I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Renee got up then. She needed to move.

 _It’ll help me think_. 

She ended up staying rooted to the spot, taking Allison in as she waited for Renee to continue. “I’ve been hesitant... I don’t know what your expectations are of me, but I promise you I’m not going to be like others you’ve been with.” Renee forced her feet to move and paced to Andrew’s desk. She turned around and set her back against it.

Allison stood and walked over towards her. They were the same height, Renee realized, now that Allison didn’t have her heels on. Once she was before her, Allison reached up a hand and brushed a lock of hair behind Renee’s ear. The touch was feather soft and so _familiar;_ something she’d done countless times before and - Renee fought closing her eyes as realization dawned on her. How had she not seen the intention behind it before...?

Nonetheless, she kept her gaze on Allison’s. “I know you’re not,” Allison said. “Maybe that’s why I want you.” She shrugged a shoulder and used the hand that was lingering behind Renee’s ear, to instead cup her cheek and run a soothing path along her cheekbone. “I just think we should _try_. I think we’ll regret it if we don’t.”

_I know -_

“Okay,” Renee whispered, her heart hammering in her chest and the feeling of falling starting in her stomach and rising to her throat. 

“Okay,” Allison whispered back, leaning forward into Renee’s space. They were so close, Renee thought - so close and sharing breath and _why is this taking so long?_

Renee closed the distance. 

Kissing Allison was everything Renee **_dreamed_ ** thought it would be. Her lips were soft and the build up that had gotten them there was bundled in Renee’s throat and released when Allison moved her lips and leaned forward so their bodies were flush. Somehow, Renee found herself sitting up on Andrew’s desk - knocking over a cup of purple pens and pencils, moving aside his keyboard and mouse, creasing papers that Andrew probably didn’t want creased. Allison moved forward to stand between her legs and Renee _somehow_ found her shaking hands pulling Allison closer by the waist. Her mouth opened under Allison’s and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss because everything felt _right_. 

Everything felt like the past few months had built between them to lead to this moment and Renee? She’d never felt like this before. 

Then, they were no longer kissing. Renee pulled back before things could get out of hand because she _knew_ . Their foreheads pressed together and their eyes were closed, Allison’s hand was tangled gently in Renee’s hair and Renee had a fistful of Allison’s romper gathered in her hand. Nothing but their heavy breathing and beating hearts filled the silence, the space, the _this_ around them. 

Eventually, when their breaths started to calm and Renee could hear more than just her pounding pulse in her ear, she said quietly, “We have to finish the interview.”

Allison laughed and opened her eyes. They were the most curious thing... Browns and blues and greens - so different from Andrew’s hazel, so different from anything Renee had ever seen. 

“I guess we do,” Allison smiled and removed her hand from Renee’s hair instead to brush along the side of her neck. “But... later, okay? Later, we’ll talk?” Renee nodded and Allison kissed her once more - short and chaste. 

With a final deep breath, Renee slid down from Andrew’s desk and made a note in her mind to clean the mess she’d made. As she went to sit back in her chair, she straightened out her hair and rubbed the gloss left on her lips together as she sat down. Allison, meanwhile, was already in the white chair - looking completely unruffled, but for the gloss that was dimmed and not-so-perfect anymore. 

Clearing her throat, Renee sent Allison a playful glance and raised a brow. “Ready?” She asked and in the back of her mind thought, _I feel so much better._

Allison only smirked and crossed her legs again, resuming her easy, regal position upon her Ikea throne. Renee took that as answer enough and picked up her pad, then turned the camera back on. 

[ Record On ]

Looking down at her notes, she realized she had no idea what they were even talking about... before. Flipping a page, she inhaled a quick breath and smiled. 

“Okay, so. I’ve done this with the others, so I’m going to do it with you, too. It’s a lightning round, where I say a word and then you say the first thing that comes to mind. Sound good?”

Allison nodded and smiled with a flourish of her hand, “Okay.”

_Okay._

“Burger,” Renee began. 

“Pickles.”

“Car.”

“Drive.”

“Dan.”

“Strength.” Renee raised a brow at that. She hoped Dan watched this.

“Seth.”

“Cool.”

“Wymack.”

“Loud.” Renee laughed and nodded. She wasn’t wrong. 

Then, she sobered enough to look Allison in the eye.

“Renee.”

Allison hesitated, only for a moment. “Beautiful.”

[ Record Off ]

-

When Renee handed Seth the tape, she held on when he tried to take it from her. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said as sternly as soft, gentle, forgiving, godly Renee possibly could. Because, although she’d turn the camera off, there was still an obvious cut, and the _‘you’_ and _‘beautiful’_ comments from Allison remained. 

Seth’s eyes went wide for a moment, before he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh my fucking _god_ , Walker. Yes - Mhm,” he hummed, eyes wide and playfully teasing. “You gonna hear it now. Sorry, if you will excuse me.” He gave a quick tug and held the tape up where she couldn’t reach. 

_As if she would._

“I’m going to go watch the fuck out of this and sing about how _right_ I was. Thank you!”

Renee wasn’t the type to pout, so she didn’t. Where Allison would probably stomp her foot or bat her lashes, Renee lifted her chin. “Hey,” she said quickly. “Don’t be mean. I know I’m a koala, but I have this whole other thing where I know how to use a knife like... really well.” 

Seth turned around to look at her, eyes squinted and disbelieving. Renee smiled her sweetest smile at him and a shudder passed through his body. 

“Damn, Walker...” He whispered, his lip curling up and free hand shooing her away. “Get out of my dungeon and let me work. You scary as fuck-”

Renee left the sound booth, still smiling. She sat down to write up a post to the listeners explaining what the video was and why they were doing it when her phone pinged with a text. 

It was Allison. 

_‘Dinner? Tonight?’_

She smiled to herself and responded. _‘Let me check my schedule._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! We hope you love and accept our decision. :3 Really, we've wanted this to happen for a while and finally, it's here. So! yeah lol.  
> Kudos and comments always appreciated! We love you all so much and thank you for sticking with us!


	20. Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. This... Fuck this one is a fucking monster. Listen, we are so fucking tired and trying to get this up as fast as possible, so if there are mistakes, please be kind T^T But fucking hell we've been staring at this chapter for the past two weeks and it's finally here guys. Fuck.. FUCK wow okay.  
> So this is our favorite chapter so far. I know we say that a lot but really... this.. is kind of everything to us. So we really *really* hope you all like it.  
> I'm not sure if there are any big TW's except for reference to self harm, scars, and past abusers. Again, they are very *very* minor mentions and nothing huge.  
> I feel like if we talk about this too much, it's going to take away from this.  
> So, here it is.  
> The reunion. The continuation. What happens? I don't know. :)  
> We hope you enjoy. Truly. Things only go (down) up from here. Thank you all so much for the love and anticipation. We hope this lives up to it!  
> Remember to stay tuned on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for updates. Because Andrew??? He's finally Back™. Check in next week to see what's happened...

_“Hello, Nathaniel.”_ Neil closed his eyes and swallowed hard. _“Or, I guess I should say Alex?”_

No, he shouldn’t say Alex. Alex was dead - dead, just like Chris and Ben and Nathaniel most of all. 

_Neil._

Neil laughed quietly at that, despite himself. 

“It’s Neil now, actually.”

 _“Neil,”_ Andrew said, and Neil imagined him just as he was the last time they were together - in that tiny shack, made up of all whites and golds and desperately trying to hold the broken bits in. Neil could see that... even at twelve. 

_It was like looking in a mirror._

His voice was deeper now, of course. Smoother. Neil’s mind had a hard time connecting it to the one on the podcast. Maybe it was because right now, he didn’t _want_ to.

 _“I’m at the Grand Canyon right now,”_ he said, and something about all of this felt exciting and invigorating and so unbelievably childish. Neil wanted to play into it, he wanted to create a bubble where Andrew wasn’t who he was and Neil hadn’t been put through what he had in these past few months. 

“Bullshit,” he said, pulling one knee up to his chest on his bed and resting his chin on it. In the back of his mind, he knew Andrew was in Arizona. But another part of his mind questioned why he would go back to the Grand Canyon? Was it nostalgia? Did he expect to find _Alex_ there waiting?

~~_Me?_ ~~

_“It’s true. You know I never lie.”_ His voice... monotone yes, but the humor that one would expect from such a line was veiled by such seriousness that it struck something inside Neil that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Not right now. Because that something wasn’t sweet or nostalgic. It was the anger he’d been keeping locked shut because he felt like he had to - for this phone call ~~_f_ _or himself_ .  ~~

But, he couldn’t keep up this facade and he couldn’t pretend that everything was okay and this was just a call between old... _whatevers_ . He couldn’t lead Andrew here, thinking that whatever was waiting on the other side of the phone was something happy and good and _and and and_ - 

“Hmmm,” Neil hummed and let his mind battle itself for a while. His lips were moving, speaking words that he hadn’t really committed to in his head. “Well, it’s been a long time. I don’t know you at all...” Which, Neil thought, was perfectly true. Neil didn’t know how to reconcile this Andrew with the 13 year old, broken boy in his mind, and he knew that doing so would do nothing to help what was _now_. 

 _Now_ , was Andrew - a journalist with a podcast and piercings and black painted nails. A man with a following and a promise he - 

~~_No_ ~~

\- and a fucked up way of keeping it. He was an _asshole_ that set Neil’s teeth on edge. He was a man that didn’t understand what he was doing. 

~~_But isn’t that who he was before? A small boy who had a mouth much fouler than any adult Neil had ever met. A small boy who saw and was seen through Neil’s eyes. A small boy who didn’t understand what sort of impact -_ ~~

Neil rubbed his forehead and pressed the phone closer to his ear. He listened to nothing, he listened to silence, he listened to Andrew’s breathing. He listened to the sound of the wind on this precipice he was standing at and daring himself to jump from. He felt himself let out a heavy sigh. 

“What are you doing, Andrew?”

~~_What am I doing?_ ~~

_Why?_

_“Keeping my promise.”_

He almost wanted to laugh again. 

A promise made between two kids who knew too much of the real world. Neil’s pinky itched. He looked down at it and remembered Andrew wrapping his own around it - remember the warmth of Andrew’s touch that was gentle and promising and _new_. He remembered leaning forward and coming within inches of hazel eyes that turned honey in the sunlight streaming through the dusty window. 

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. 

_We’re not kids anymore._

“This is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

_“I don’t do subtle.”_

_No. You don’t, do you? Drama queen._

“Andrew.” He tried to sound stern, tried to sound serious because this _was_ serious. 

 _“I have something of yours.”_ A small pause Neil didn’t know how to fill. _“You never wrote.”_

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He had a few other things going on.

_“I suppose you did.”_

Neil fell quiet for a moment. He chewed on the inside of his lip, letting that distract him as silence stretched and his mind ran with questions he had no answers to. Like, what the fuck was he supposed to do now? Why did he even call in the first place? Was getting Andrew on his side really worth it, or was he just creating another _problem_ that he would likely have to deal with later on? He didn’t even really know how he _felt_ right then. He didn’t know if the anger bubbling in his stomach should be set free, or if it really had any stakes in the first place. Was he justified in his anger? Was Andrew doing the right thing? _Who, what, when, where, why?_

The only thing that was solid, the only thing he for sure knew was that he was fucking _tired_. He was tired of running and hiding, he was tired of worrying, tired of Andrew, and his own crippling anxiety. He was just - 

Sir pawed at his thigh and shoved her body into his lap. Instinctively, he lowered his knee from his chest, wrapped his free arm around her body and leaned forward as she nuzzled his neck. He tried to leach strength from her, absorb her warmth and try to gather courage to say words that really hadn’t registered in his mind until they were spoken aloud. 

“Come find me then.” ~~_What the fuck are you doing, Nathaniel?!_ ~~ “I’m in New York. I’ve been staying with...” He bit into his lip - whether to avoid saying _who_ , or to avoid saying anything in fucking general, he didn’t know. 

_Too fucking late for that._

“A friend. Come find me and we’ll talk. But it has to be alone. You can’t-” He inhaled a deep breath. “You can’t tell anyone else... Not yet.”

There was a beat of silence, both in his head and over the phone. It was like they were both surprised at the words that left his lips. 

_“You’re in New York?”_

_Hah. Haha. Fuck._

_Wow._

He could feel a manic smile threatening to bloom - a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat and trying to claw its way out. How had he not even realized? _Jesus fucking christ_. “Do you still think fate is bullshit?”

~~_Yes_ ~~

Neil tried to ignore the ridiculous chatter going on in his head and instead listened to Andrew blow out a breath of air. He could practically hear his ~~_stupid_ ~~ brain working from a thousand miles away. 

Then,

_“Okay.”_

_Okay?_

_“I’ll be there as soon as I can get on a plane. Text me the details and I’ll respond with my flight info.”_

~~_Don’t do it Nathaniel._ ~~

_Shut up, shut up, shut up-_

“Okay,” Neil answered quickly. Whether it was to be done with this conversation or quiet the _noise_ \- “I’ll... I’ll see you then. Bye, Andrew.”

_You’re being too nice. He ripped your life apart. He tore you at the seams. He ruined your mentality for months._

_“Bye, Alex.”_

_Did he, though...?_

Neil stared at the blank screen for a moment. 

_What have I done?_

He dropped his phone like it burned him. Because it started in his fingers. 

It started in his fingers and the numbness worked its way up his arms and to his chest, his lips. This was always how it went and Neil was so very tempted to just give in - to just lay down on his bed and try to suck in deep breaths with 

~~_a hand on my neck-_ ~~

_No._

Abruptly, Neil stood and breathed and paced and picked Sir up for good measure. He let the vibrations of her pur ground him and he buried his face in her neck to smell her fur. She nuzzled his head affectionately and he choked down a sob. 

_I’m so tired..._

He stopped moving, stopped walking and pacing, maybe he stopped breathing altogether. With his eyes closed, he held Sir tighter and she remained perfectly, patiently still. After a few moments, he finally set her back down on the bed with a kiss to the bridge of her nose. Then, he took a few more deep breaths, shook out the numbness still lingering in his hands, and finally decided he needed food. Or water. Or _something._ He didn’t know what. 

When he opened the door to his room, he walked almost face first into Matt’s chest. He startled back just in time to avoid it and put a hand to his heart like he could calm it down. 

_Fucking Christ -_

“Jesus Matt, lurk much?” His voice wasn’t calm, but it was steady - it didn’t shake. He was okay.

_I’m okay._

Matt didn’t smile. He wasn’t amused. When Neil looked up into his face, there was a line creased between his brows. 

“What happened?”

Neil forced himself to compose his face into blankness. He knew it wouldn’t work, but at least it would give off the facade that he hadn’t just spent however long, to gather himself together. Matt, afterall, knew who Neil was talking to. Calling Andrew was Matt’s idea in the first place, but still, he worried. It was written all over his face and had been since Neil had ‘come out’ to him. Ever since then, his jaw ticked every time Andrew’s name was brought up. 

It was ticking now. 

_Everything’s fine._

Neil walked around him and headed to the kitchen. “I need food first.”

_Then, I’ll tell you._

Matt didn’t respond. He simply followed Neil and shoved him into his normal seat at the counter, before opening the fridge himself. 

“Leftover Chinese?”

“That’s fine,” Neil responded. It didn’t really matter.

“I’ll heat this up. You talk.” Matt pulled out containers from the fridge.

_Right._

Neil bit down on the inside of his lip and took a deep breath. He did a bit of measuring to make sure he could handle speaking the words aloud and found that his mentality was at least partially stable. So, he replied, “He’s coming here. To New York.”

Matt reacted how Neil expected. He froze in the middle of grabbing utensils. “What?” he said first, then set the carton down and turned to face Neil. “Like... here, here? To New York? As in, he’s going to come here and you’re going to meet him face to face?” The last part wasn’t _really_ a question. 

Nonetheless, Neil just stared at Matt and that was answer enough. 

Matt rolled his neck and gave a small groan, “Neil... What the hell, man? You were supposed to _talk_ to him - tell him to leave you alone! Not invite him to dinner-”

“It’s more complicated than that...” Neil scowled. 

“How?” Matt pulled back his chin and gestured with the fork. “How can it possibly be more complicated than, _‘Hello, you tiny fuckin’ asshole. Please stop stalking me so I don’t wind up dead. Thanks!’”_

_You have to tell him._

He had to. The fact of the matter was, Matt had given Neil a place to stay when he had no where else to go. He got him a job, the clothes literally on his back. When Neil came clean about who he really was, Matt didn’t shove him out - no. He hugged him and helped him and Matt deserved to know what was really going on here. It was literally the least Neil could do. 

Afterall, if things went according to the plan that Neil _did not have_ , it was going to come up eventually and Neil was so fucking tired of lying. 

So, Neil stared at Matt and determined right now was as good a time as any. He rubbed the numbness out of his hands on his pants and inhaled a deep breath before letting it out in a huff. He briefly wondered if it would be easier to get this out if he didn’t see Matt’s reaction, so he covered his eyes with both hands and quickly said, “We’ve met before. When we were kids.”

There was silence. 

Then there was a crash. 

Neil jumped out of his seat on reflex, dropping his hands and looking to, one: see what the fuck it was, and two: to make sure Matt was okay. There was a plate shattered on the floor and the shards surrounded his bare feet like shrapnel. “Matt, what the hell...?”

Matt made to move, but Neil waved a quick hand at him. 

“Stop, stop. Just hold on. You’re going to step on glass-” He left the kitchen quickly to grab the broom from the closet in the hall, then came back to find Matt in the same spot, staring at him. Neil stopped and sighed. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

That seemed to be the magic ~~_word_ ~~ phrase, because he unfroze and quickly furrowed his brows. “Not that big of a deal?! Are you kidding me, Neil?!” He threw up his hands and guffawed. “I mean - not - So, you knew each other when you were kids and now his fucked up mind thinks he has some sort of claim over you!?”

~~_No that’s not it_ ~~

_You don’t know that, Nathaniel_. 

Neil bent to pick up the bigger pieces. He briefly wished picking up his own pieces could be this easy, but quickly shoved that away when Matt mirrored him. Rather than fight, they both tried not to step on the small, invisible bits as they scanned the floor for anything they may have missed. 

Eventually, when the coast looked semi clear, Neil finally replied, “It’s not like that...”

“No?” Matt’s response was automatic. “Then tell me what it’s like.”

~~_I don’t know_ .  ~~

Neil grabbed the broom and dustpan and started to sweep what was remaining on the floor into a little pile. As he did, he tried to think of the best way to explain what he _didn’t fucking know_ , only to end on just what... _was._

“We met when I was twelve and he was thirteen,” Neil began. He focused his eyes on the small, but growing pile of shards and dust. “We were at the Grand Canyon. He pulled me into this little snack bar that was closed and we just... Hung out.” Neil shrugged. 

“Hung out?” Matt had already gotten out another plate and resumed the task of dumping lo mein onto it. 

“Yeah, I mean -” Neil silently groaned. “We talked. I told him a little about running with my mom. Not details, obviously,” he added quickly. “But just a little. And he told me about... stuff. It doesn’t matter-” He felt like he was doing a very poor job explaining. _Quid pro Quo_. “Pretty much, we made a promise back then.”

“Promise?” The question was punctuated by microwave buttons _beeping_. 

“Yes. A promise that we’d help each other out of our shitty situations if we were ever able to. He thinks he’s keeping that promise.”

“Oh, So he’s insane?” Matt didn’t _really_ ask. He turned his back to the microwave and grabbed the broom from Neil to start aggressively sweeping himself. “Cool, cool, cool,” Matt nodded. “No problem, yeah. He made the connection and thinks this is the best way to help. Awesome. Fantastic. What a _cool fucking guy,_ Neil.”

Neil felt that boiling anger he was trying to simultaneously summon and stifle earlier, finally start to surface. His fingers started to tingle again and his pulse spiked with that rush of adrenaline he’d been waiting for. “Do you think I’m not angry?” he asked lowly. “Do you think I’m not fucking pissed that this guy has basically posted my entire fucking life on the internet for everyone to read - just because he thinks he’s doing the,” Neil air quoted, “‘ _Right thing’_ by keeping some _meaningless_ fucking promise between two kids who didn’t know any better?”

Matt stopped what he was doing, set the broom aside, and took a deep breath. Looking to the pile on the floor, then up at Neil, he let out that breath and shook his head as his shoulders released their tension. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it. I’m just worried about you... I don’t know this guy and it just - I’m worried he’ll come here and he’ll out you to anyone who may want to find you.”

_Me too._

“I know,” Neil replied and felt the anger seep out of his numb fingers. He was tired once more and all but collapsed into the stool at the counter. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I’m worried, too. But, I feel like this is the only way to get him to understand... To get him to see reason. So,” Neil watched his fingers quiver and briefly wondered where the fuck Sir was. He needed her - “He’s going to come and I’m going to talk to him and _hopefully_ he gets it. Hopefully he’ll back off and give up...”

~~_Hopefully_ ~~

He could feel Matt studying him, could hear the cogs churning in his head and working over time to figure out if this was the right decision or not. Rather than say any of that or raise more questions, possibilities, or whatever else, Matt just nodded and said, “I trust you. I’ll leave this to you, but please... Neil. Let me know if you need help. With anything.” Matt’s chin dipped but his eyes widened. “Talking to him or hiding a body or whatever. Okay?”

_Thank you._

Neil managed a small smile. “Okay.”

The microwave dinged. 

-

_‘JFK 4pm’_

The text came Monday morning. Neil threw his phone back on the nightstand, rolled over, and buried his face in his pillow. 

_What have I done?_

He was going to have to call out of work tonight. 

He could go, he supposed - leave Andrew waiting around if Neil felt particularly petty. 

_No._

He wouldn’t be able to concentrate - wouldn’t be able to think. He’d be useless on the job and

 _Just get it over with_.

Matt knocked on the door. “Neil? Come on, we’re getting breakfast.”

_Ugh_

Neil rolled over again and stared at the ceiling. 

 _Just treat this like a normal day. Totally normal. Hang out with Matt and get shit done before Matt has practice and you_ ~~_would_~~ _have work. Everything will be fine._

_I’m fine._

He threw the blankets off himself and finally swung his legs off the bed. “Coming.”

Half an hour later, they sat in a small restaurant near Matt’s apartment called Sarahbeths*. It was a quaint place with a french theme and lots of pinks and frills decorating the place. It was also Matt’s favorite spot for brunch on the upper east side - which amused Neil greatly. 

Except for today.

Neil tried to eat his omelette. So far, that wasn’t working out so well despite the persistent voice inside his head telling him that eating may make him feel better. 

_Doubt it._

Matt, meanwhile, was on his second plate of pancakes - this round topped with a blueberry _whatever_ , that he liberally covered in freshly whipped cream. For a professional athlete, Matt indulged. Not like it really mattered. 

“So,” Matt started, taking a brief break to fix himself another cup of coffee from the elaborately decorated, ceramic pot on the table. “When is he supposed to get here?”

“4,” Neil mumbled, separating a poor piece of bacon from egg. “He lands at JFK at 4.”

“Where is he staying?” Matt asked, taking a sip from his cup with his fucking pinky up. 

Neil stared at him. Normally, he would have laughed. Instead he just sighed and fought back another groan as he shrugged a shoulder. Neil didn’t know, nor did he care. His plan ~~_not plan_ ~~ was to have this face to face and then be done with it, him, everything entirely. 

Matt set down his cup with a _ting_ and looked at his food like he hadn’t been shoveling it in thirty seconds ago. 

Then, he said, “He can stay at the apartment.”

“No, he can’t,” Neil replied, immediately. That was the absolute last thing he fucking needed - Andrew _fucking_ Minyard in the only place he felt like he had left. 

Matt did the sighing for him. “Not if it’ll stress you out, of course. But honestly Neil, I’d rather have him where I can keep an eye on him... Where I know what he’s doing and who he’s talking to. You catch me?”

~~_Yeah_ ~~

“I don’t anticipate this taking long. I just need enough time to tell him to fuck off and whatever he does afterwards is beyond me.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work.” _It has to._ Neil just wanted to get back to his normal - well, _‘normal’_ \- life again. So, the plan _not_ plan, was that Neil will talk, Andrew will listen, end of story.

Matt pursed his lips, kept back the words Neil could see ticking behind his eyes. 

This time, Neil did sigh. He elaborated, “Okay.” He stabbed the omelette, “I’m going to meet him at Jamaica. Maybe I’ll bring him back to the apartment then. I need somewhere private for this conversation - can’t risk anyone overhearing... I don’t know how popular he is...” He moved the bacon around on the plate, smearing egg and butter across it. “I don’t know if he’s recognizable, so...”

That, at least, got Matt to huff a laugh and pick his fork back up. “No one in NYC gives a fuck about Andrew Minyard - not enough to do anything about it, at least. However,” He speared his pancakes, “I think you’re right. You need to be somewhere private for whatever verbal lashing you give him.” When he ate the forkfull, he stared at Neil as if saying, _because you_ **_will_ ** _._

Neil nodded. 

_I will._

He looked for that anger again and willed it to grow hotter. 

-

Neil was just about to leave for JFK, when Matt came walking out of his room. He was in a hoodie with a hat and sunglasses. Neil raised a brow at him.

“Matt, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m incognito. So we can go get Minyard.”

Neil shook his head. “No. Matt. _No_. You look like the unabomber.”

Matt pulled back his chin and put his hand on his chest, “That’s rude. I look _incognito_.”

“You look like a 6’4 black man wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.” _I don’t have time for this._

~~_Yes you do. Be late. Make Minyard wait._ ~~

_No._

Neil sighed and gestured towards him. “I’m not going to be responsible for you getting jumped by police for walking while black. I’m going by myself.”

Matt furrowed his brow and turned to look in one of his decorative mirrors. He leaned close to it and mumbled, “huh...”

Neil could practically hear his thoughts. _‘I AM a 6’4 black man, aren’t I?’_

Matt took off the hat and sunglasses and sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to bring any more attention to you. But!” He quickly pointed the glasses at Neil, “You’re going there and coming right back, right?”

“Yes.”

“No stops?”

“No stops.”

“I’m timing you. Text me when you get to the airport and when you’re on your way back.”

“Matt, I-“

Matt held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Just say, _‘Yes, Matt. I’ll do that.’_

Neil rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. “Yes, _Dad_. I’ll do that.”

-

The entire way to the airport, Neil stewed. He kept playing it over and over in his mind. What would it be like when they were finally face to face? What would it be like to see _him_ again? To be able to talk and - 

_Let everything loose._

Neil balled a fist thinking about it. 

He was angry with Andrew, yes. But the other side of his anger was that he was mad at himself. He was mad that he was so calm and cordial on the phone. He should’ve told him how he felt right then and there - maybe at the expense of pissing Andrew off, but at least he wouldn’t come here thinking this was going to be a pleasant conversation between old friends - thinking things were _okay._

 _That I’m okay_. 

~~_I’m fine._ ~~

Something in the back of his mind thought, _Good. Let him come and think it’s safe. Let him come and think he’s getting the small twelve-year-old kid he met all those years ago._ Neil could pull the rug right out from under him, just like Andrew had done. 

 _‘I’m a fox again. I’ll chase_ ~~_these_ ~~ _this rabbit_ ~~_s_ ~~ _down holes and I won't stop until my tongue tastes blood.’_

Was this really the only way to get him to stop? To get him to understand?

_Will he flay me alive? Eat me up? Keep going until there’s nothing left?_

_No._

Neil knew Andrew had been through some shit. He knew that he’d seen abuse too. He didn’t know to what extent, but he remembered that day - that conversation. 

_‘I don’t want anymore kids to come into the house’_

How would he feel, Neil wondered, if Neil were to find all the moments that made Andrew most vulnerable as a child, and laid them bare for the entire world to see? Displayed them all nicely for the public to consume and pick apart and scrutinize as if he wasn’t real, a person - living and breathing and _alive_. 

_Maybe he’ll understand._

~~_Maybe he won't._ ~~

He was here already. One minute he was on the Q, then Penn, and the next he was standing on the upper platform of Jamaica station - hands balled in his pockets and teeth dug in his lip. People surrounded him, a rush of moving and chatter and overhead announcements. Neil’s eyes were glued on the glass doors that lead to the Metro pass point into JFK. He waited, searched, anticipated the moment that blond head passed through. 

He didn’t know how long he stood there. But faster than Neil wanted, he caught the glint of glasses and shine of black boots. He locked eyes with honey and warmth and ~~_understood_ ~~ pain, and Neil?

He saw red. 

* * *

 

There wasn’t any expression on Neil’s face when Andrew saw him, but there was a small indent on his lower lip where Andrew knew he was biting in. Andrew approached slowly, gripping his bag hard at his shoulder and schooling his expression to be as blank as possible. He ignored the hammering in his chest and nodded in greeting as he walked towards _him_.  

Neil was - Andrew didn’t think he could describe it. He was exactly as Andrew had imagined him over the course of this entire thing. The boy from the shack but... different, because he was also the child from the pictures. The small, vulnerable, scared child Andrew had seen in mere snapshots - grown up and realized and _here_ . He was _Alex_ , he was _Nathaniel_ , he was... Neil.

Andrew didn’t get a chance to get a closer look, not yet, because Neil merely nodded his head behind him. He turned without a word and headed down the stairs to board the coming train. Andrew followed.

Neil was silent the entire way to _wherever_ they were going. 

Andrew stayed silent, too. He could practically feel the waves of anger rolling off him. 

Every word Andrew had planned for this moment had flown out of his head. 

_They wouldn’t be welcomed anyway._

They sat across from each other on the crowded train. Neil with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at the floor, and Andrew studying him as surreptitiously as possible. 

_He’s the same._

He was the same and that made it hard for Andrew to breathe. The tan skin, the freckles, the spot on his ear... The only difference besides age and _time_ , was his eyes - they were brown now, hidden behind contacts and Andrew found the color didn’t suit him at all. ~~_That’s the point_ ~~ ~~.~~ They could’ve been back in Arizona. ~~Feet stretched out in front of them, close enough to touch.~~

 _But we’re not_. 

They were in New York, on a train, and Andrew knew now, how this was going to go.

_I just need to explain_

He didn’t say anything, not yet. Not on the train and not on the walk to _wherever_ it was they were going. 

He wanted to breath the silence - all manner of sarcastic comments sat on the tip of his tongue. The impulsive asshole everyone believed him to be was ready to force a reaction, _something_ , if he must. 

But, he bit down. _Not now._ ~~_Not yet_ . ~~ _Not ever, Andrew._

When they walked into a lobby of a high-rise apartment building on the upper east side, Andrew wanted to ask. Still, he said nothing. When the security guard behind the marble desk nodded to Neil, he said nothing. When they got into a shiny, glass and silver elevator and Neil punched in a security code to get to _wherever_ they were going, Andrew thought he might choke on all the _nothing_ he wasn’t _fucking_ saying. 

“Nice digs.”

Neil glared at him from the corner of his eye and Andrew went back to saying nothing. 

_Stupid._

They rode the elevator up to the whatever-the-fuck floor (Andrew was too distracted to look. He’d berate himself about that later). When they were let out, there were floor to ceiling windows at the end of the hall with two doors against one wall, and a single door on the other. Neil headed to the single door with the number 1003 written on a plaque attached to it, and used a fob to get in. 

He walked ahead of Andrew and Andrew had to quickly put a hand out to stop it from slamming in his face.

_I deserved that._

Walking in, Andrew shut the door behind him and turned around to the nicest apartment he’d ever been in. 

_Not bad for a runaway._

He followed Neil down a short, stark white wall with pop-art paintings hung on either side, into a living room area. Letting his bag fall off his shoulder, he dumped it beside the couch and felt unease settle in the pit of his stomach and shoved whatever _surety_ that _might_ have been there, completely out. Andrew felt like he was a dark stain contaminating the very bright apartment ~~_home_~~ around him. It had been a long time since he had last endured that feeling. 

Someone cleared their throat, pulling him out of whatever thoughts his mind was certainly not thinking. He turned to see a very tall man standing in an equally white, ~~_yet homey,_ ~~ kitchen. 

“Minyard?”

When Andrew nodded, the man made his way over. He had to be well over six feet tall and Andrew sighed internally. Big guys usually liked to pretend they had some sort of advantage over Andrew because of their height. 

_They don’t._

“Matt,” Neil sighed. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

“I’m sick,” _Matt_ gave a weak cough, not taking his eyes off Andrew. “Told them I wouldn’t be in today.”

“That was stupid,” Neil said, a hint of disappointment on the edge of his words. Andrew didn’t know if that disappointment was purely for _Matt_ , or if he was merely preparing to unload it upon Andrew. 

“Yeah, well. There were more pressing matters to take care of here.” He glared down at Andrew and Andrew tore his eyes away to do a quick survey of the apartment surrounding him. That’s when Andrew _really_ realized who this guy was. He’d never seen him, he didn’t think, but the context clues were written all around the incredibly swank fucking apartment and -

~~_Fate, fate, fate-_ ~~

“Matt Lloyd, right?” he asked.

“It’s Boyd, actually.”

_Don’t say it._

Andrew cocked his head. “No…no, I’m pretty sure it’s Lloyd.”

Matt took a menacing step forward and Neil grabbed his arm. Andrew zeroed in on Neil’s hand and narrowed his eyes. 

_What is this, exactly?_

“Matt, do you mind? I want to get this conversation over with and we don’t need an audience.”

Matt finally tore his eyes away from Andrew and looked to Neil. He softened, just slightly. Andrew pursed his lips as Matt conceded, “Fine. But I’m just going to my room. _Call me_ if you need anything-”

Andrew could tell - it took everything in Neil not to roll his eyes as he bent down and picked up a gray tabby from the couch. “I will. Take Sir with you? She’ll be trying to climb up my leg otherwise.”

Matt nodded and scooped her into his hands. He sent one glare over his shoulder at Andrew, but Andrew was too busy focusing his energy and willpower on _not_ leaping to give the cat a cuddle. 

Once Matt was gone, Andrew’s eyes stayed in the space he left. “So,” he started. “You’re living with a professional exy player... And he knows your story. What a world we live in.”

Neil finally unclenched his jaw and walked deeper into the living room, leaving Andrew with nothing to do but to follow. He watched Neil for a few moments, felt the urge to crack his pinky, but was too weak to resist it. The crack was followed by, 

_I kept my promise, I kept my promise, I kept my promise_

Instead, his mouth said, “Spit it out, already.”

“What?” Neil looked at him quickly and tilted his head as if to say, ‘ _excuse me?’_

_Not like this Andrew -_

“Just spit it out.” He moved around the couch and sat down. “You obviously have something to say, so, say it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, lifted an ankle onto his knee. “I’m here. I’m listening.” He meant that too. He was here... he was listening. 

_I can’t stand the silence._

He tried to stay blank, casual - in direct contradiction to the storm raging in his chest and the words he _wanted_ to say, but knew he had no real _right_ to. 

“You sure you don’t want to record this?” Neil asked, with as much scorn as Andrew thought he could muster.

_Fuck._

Andrew sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. His voice was softer now, “If you’ll just let me explain-“

“No,” Neil breathed a breath of a laugh. “I don’t have to _let_ you do anything. You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to listen, and not say a _fucking_ word until I’ve said what I need to. Got it?” There was a flush high in his cheeks and he pressed his lips into a thin line. On either side of him, his hands were balled into fists, but Andrew could tell they were shaking. 

_Okay._

Andrew nodded.

Neil paced for another minute, before finally facing Andrew. His brows gathered together, he abruptly said, “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?”

“Excuse me?” ~~_Andrew, no._ ~~

“Who the _FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE_?!”

If Andrew had been standing, he would’ve taken a step back. As it was, he had nowhere to go. 

_Nowhere to hide._

“I’m the man trying to help-” _Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up -_

 _“_ Bullshit, Andrew. Do you have any idea what this has been like? Any _fucking_ idea, the shit that I’ve had to relive since you decided to put my _entire fucking life_ on the air?!”

_No. I don’t._

Neil inhaled a deep breath. It shook when he let it out. His shoulders were raised, every single muscle looked like it was taught and ready to snap and Andrew wanted to - “When I was five years old, Andrew. When I was _five years old,_ I hid in a closet and I wrote the words ‘ _don’t be bad’._ Because when my father beat me, when he cut me, when he had _other_ people _beat and cut me_ , I was so sure it was my fucking fault. The only place I felt _safe_ , the only place I could _hide_ , was in that closet.” He gestured around him. “Surrounded by expensive toys and clothes and every color marker that ever _fucking_ existed - and I wrote the words ‘ _don’t be bad’_. You know what hasn’t crossed my mind since then!?”

Andrew didn’t respond. He just watched and felt his chest constrict tighter and tighter. 

“ _That._ I hadn’t thought of that moment, since my mother took me and left that fucking house. I hadn’t spared one. Single. Moment on it. Because there were so many _other_ things to fucking _panic_ about. But you, oh you. Andrew _fucking_ Minyard-” Neil laughed, but there was no humor. He was still strung tight, shoulders lifted to his ears. “You brought it back to life.”

~~_No -_ ~~

“You _TOOK A PICTURE_ of it! And you put it on the internet for strangers to fucking see and comment on and pick over. _Why the_ **_fuck_ ** _would you do that to me?”_

_I don’t know... I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know - This isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t mean -_

The thoughts inside his head had been so _loud_ that he hadn’t been able to hear if Bee was buzzing. Everything, up until this point, had been silent on her end. She had been quiet, but a small wisp of wind behind his ear and now? She was all he could hear, all he could feel. Her _burn_ and _buzz_ and he wanted to rub it away but he didn’t deserve that sort of reprieve. Not now..

“I didn’t think-“

“Oh, that is fucking obvious. This entire time you haven’t been thinking of anyone but your fucking self.” He motioned towards Andrew and then dropped his hands on his hips. “You’re pretending like you’re on this fucking crusade to save a mother and son, but _really-”_ Andrew could see Neil dig his fingers into his own sides. “Really, you’re on a crusade to ruin my life even more than it already fucking is! You’ve taken this thing that happened when we were _kids_ , and you’ve morphed it into an excuse for you to do whatever the fuck you want in the name of a _meaningless_ promise made between two stupid kids who didn’t know any better!”

Andrew sat rigid as stone, trying not to _feel_ or _think_ or let the words in his mind and the buzz in his ear change what was being hurled at him. 

_I deserve this._

He did. No matter how many excuses he wanted to come up with in his head, he knew that he deserved whatever Neil was aiming at him. Perhaps _this_ was the only justice Andrew could ever deliver Neil. Justice for what pain he’d unknowingly put him through and - 

But none of this was _meaningless._ That promise... It didn’t mean _nothing_ to Andrew. It meant everything, it’s why he was here - why he fought to get here despite whatever odds. That was one of the most significant moments of his childhood - maybe even his life... That moment of shared secrets and traumas and _promises._

“It wasn’t meaningless to me,” he heard himself say quietly, standing to try and get closer, to get further away, to get some understanding. He tried to crack his pinky again, but was only met with pain. “I _always_ keep my promises-”

“Liar,” Neil hissed, and Andrew furrowed a brow, tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go but ~~back~~ _down_ ~~on the couch.~~ He stayed standing. “You’re such a fucking liar. I remember that day, do you? Or have you morphed it into something else in that fucking head of yours?”

“I remember _everything,_ ” Andrew said defiantly. 

“Then remember this. _‘I won’t tell. I promise, and I never break my promises._ ’” Neil mocked, cruelly.

 _Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz -_ Bee kicked up. He gave in, pressed two fingers against her only to be met with his racing pulse. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell. You promised you wouldn’t tell _anyone_ what I told you - about us running and my father and -” Neil shook his head, laughed that breath again. “And instead, you told the _ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD_!” He was breathing hard, nostrils flaring and his eyes turning glassy. 

_No_

Andrew felt like he’d been punched. He dropped the hand behind his ear to his stomach and tried to take a breath. 

_No_

_nononono..._

_Breathe in_

His eyes stared at Neil, confused ~~, but not~~ ~~.~~ He hadn’t... He hadn’t broken his promise -

_Did I?_

“Neil,” Andrew said, _desperate_ for him to understand. “Just listen - The thing about you and your mom running from your dad…everyone already knew that. That wasn’t new information to the public.” _Shut up, Andrew,_ “I’m a journalist. This was the quickest, most effective way-“ _Wrong -_

“Oh, you’re a _journalist_ . I am _so fucking_ sorry _sir_ , forgive my ignorance. How nice it must have been for you! To be able to go to school and have a career and live a fucking life. Do you have any idea what _I’ve_ been doing since we last met?”

“Yes.” Running, hiding, looking over a shoulder. 

 _That’s why I’m here._..

“ _Yes_ , he says. _Fucking_ , _yes_ . And yet you still decided the best course of action was to put all of this on the air.” Neil stared at him for a long moment and suddenly, he stopped. Something inside of him released - like a rubber band snapping, his body relaxed, shoulders slumped, hands fell limp. Neil’s eyes were so... open, so honest and Andrew wanted to _try -_

Neil’s bottom lip trembled for a split second before he could bite down on it. He closed his eyes and Andrew physically felt his heart break - could feel the pieces that he and Bee had worked so hard to carefully put back together shatter into a million tiny shards. 

_I’m sorry_

When neil opened his eyes again, Andrew had to sit. He couldn’t physically hold himself up anymore. He was weak, he was wrong, he was only _trying -_

“Didn’t you ever think...?” Neil practically whispered. “All these things... that you were finding. Did you ever think of what it would do to me to have to hear it? To see it...?” He took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem like he could get it properly in. “I had to stay one step ahead of you. I had to know where you were, so I had to listen... And I had to let it destroy me every. single. time.” 

Neil crumbled. He literally crumbled before Andrew’s eyes. The boy with the scars and the undying need to survive. The boy with the strength Andrew could scarcely fathom and - his lips pressed together hard, and he sank to his knees on the floor, and it was _Andrew’s fault._

Neil let out what could’ve been a sob, Andrew didn’t know. All he knew was that he let out a noise of his own that he’d never heard from himself before. Maybe it was a choke - a choke on a guilt and sadness so profound he didn’t know that he’d ever felt it before. 

Andrew went to his own knees and sank beside him. 

Neil flinched away. 

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me -”

Andrew didn’t. He knelt there helplessly, hands out in supplication, like he could offer anything right now. But there was nothing...

 _I am nothing_. 

“I’m sorry,” Andrew whispered, shakily.

Neil huffed and shook his head. He rubbed harshly at his face, pressed his fingers into his eyes and blinked quickly once he released. “I tried to call you,” he choked, looking down at his wet fingertips. _What..?_ “When my mom was dead and I was in California. I tried calling you.” 

~~_No_ ~~

Andrew sat on the floor with a thump. His breath left him and the only word he could get out on its way was, “What?”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

“The number,” Neil said, furiously wiping away the tears that trickled slowly down his cheeks. “The number you gave me,” he got out through clenched teeth. “I tried to call it. The woman that answered _said_ you didn’t live there anymore.” Neil sniffled and shook his head quickly, dropping his hands to his lap. When he looked to Andrew, his brown eyes were red and his _auburn_ lashes stuck together. 

_“They were auburn,” Andrew said, then barreled on when Allison and Renee looked at him. “From the family photo. If you blow it up, they were auburn.”_

Neil forced a smile, but the corners of his lips shook. “And part of me was glad,” he swallowed. “I was glad, because it meant that you got out. But - I _tried_ to _fucking_ call you and you _weren’t there._ ”

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no_

Andrew pushed his glasses to the top of his head and leaned back against the couch. He put his hands over his face, willing himself not to cry as the words echoed over and over and over in his head. _He tried to call me -_

_You weren’t there, you weren’t there, you weren’t there..._

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he started, letting his hands fall. “I left the next year. I-I’m-” He rubbed his face again, like he could scrub it until he was free of all his wrong doings. He stopped himself from digging his nails in and tried to think of what he _was_... But, “I didn’t know who you were... I didn’t realize until later, when the documentary came out. If I’d known sooner-”

“Just stop,” Neil said, quietly, wearily. He pushed his palms into his eyes for one last moment before dropping them and nodding to whatever thoughts were inside his head. “There’s nothing you can say.” He looked to Andrew. “Matt has been the only thing keeping me together since I got here. He fucking hates you, by the way.”

“I hate me, too,” Andrew replied automatically... So much. Andrew hated himself more than he ever had in his entire life at that moment, and that was saying something. 

Neil snorted, “Join the club. We meet on Fridays.”

“Ah, I got here in plenty of time, then.”

Neil didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh.

_Fuck._

“I’m sorry,” Andrew tried again. “I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea…I didn’t know. I thought I was helping. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Your sorrys mean absolutely nothing to me. I could not give less of a fuck. All I need from you is for you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

Andrew chewed his lip ring for a moment. He wanted to give Neil whatever he needed. He wanted to do whatever was best. But how could he do that when he didn’t _understand_ …

“That’s what you really want?” he asked, voice low and quiet - reserved just for this space, for _him_. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m here for you. Fuck, Neil. I swear, all I ever wanted to do was help.” He inhaled a deep breath. “I haven’t told anyone about California. There are more things I’ve found that I haven’t told anyone about, because it would put too many people in danger, or I felt like it was too personal, not important to the case. I just want...-”

_I just want to know you._

“-I just want to do whatever I have to do.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Neil stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. He looked beaten down, exhausted. **_It’s my fault_ **. “I’m going to bed. I’m too tired to think rationally right now.” He wiped his hands on his pants, then curled his fingers in the excess fabric. His next words sounded defeated and - “Do you have a place to stay?”

To hear him even ask after the scene they’d both just been in the middle of...

“Not yet.”

“Matt said you can stay here. Sleep on the couch. Whatever. You can figure out when you can leave in the morning.”

Neil stood then and started to make his way out of the living room. “Wait,” Andrew called. He didn’t even know why, _what are you doing?_ “I’m not leaving, yet. I won’t bother you, but just in case you want to talk.”

“Whatever.” Neil turned and left, and Andrew sat back down on the couch, completely stunned, the back of his ear burning, and wishing more than ever that he had King here with him.

-

Andrew sat on that couch for a long time. Thoughts raced around his head, from what he’d done, to where he should go next. He didn’t _want_ to leave, didn’t want to leave Neil on his own - facing whatever the fuck they were up against. But he knew he wasn’t wanted here... He knew what he’d done had caused irreparable damage. Was there even an up from here...? Was there even a way out or a way through?

His fingers itched and chest ached. He hadn’t felt a pain like this in such a long time and the pure fact that he _felt_ pain, made him sick to his stomach. 

_This isn’t about me._

Neil didn’t come out from his room and it was fully dark by the time Matt appeared. He’d heard him go into Neil’s room at some point, but couldn’t hear or see them from where he was. Andrew stayed sitting, unmoving, hands clasped together, fingers pressed so tight to his lips that his piercing stung, and elbows on his knees. His eyes felt dry from his unblinking stare. 

Matt’s footsteps carried him all the way from the short hall to the couch. He sat on the other end at some point, sighing heavily as he sunk down. 

Eventually, he asked, “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

Andrew let the numbness he’d cocooned himself in thaw, just a little. 

“None of your fucking business.”

_Andrew._

“It _is_ my business - you know. Since you’re in my house and it involves Neil. I can press a button by my door right now and make life really hard for you. So, why don’t you go ahead and have a little chat with me?”

_Impressive._

Andrew looked over. Matt stared at him hard and Andrew nodded his head slowly at the intensity of Matt’s glower. It was, in fact, impressive. He wondered if he was this much of an ass all the time, or if the show was special just for him. 

“I’m not trying to do anything. I’ll do whatever it is Neil wants me to do. I came here to help-”

“Not to sell him out? Are you going to put this on the webpage? I know his father is dead, but he still doesn’t want to be found. Are you going to respect that?”  

_Buzz_

Andrew felt the anger well up, welcome and grounding; he felt Bee buzz, warning and burning. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Lloyd.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You really want to play this game with me?” He leaned forward, almost in Andrew’s personal space. “Listen here, you little shit. I’m the one that’s been here this whole time,” he pointed to himself. “I’m the one that’s had to put him back together again and again because of the shit _you’ve_ been pulling.” The finger Matt aimed at him came close to touching, but not quite. Andrew briefly debated whether or not to break it, but instead clenched his jaw and glared right back at Matt. ~~_Really, he was trying not to fall apart. I did this, I’m the problem -_ ~~“I’m not going to let you come in here and fuck him up even more. I don’t give a fuck what your intentions were or are, or if you were best fucking friends as kids. I. do. not. care. All I care about is that he’s taken care of and safe.”

”What are you, his dad?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

_Shut up, Andrew._

“Sure as fuck am, as far as you’re concerned. And I’ll protect him in any way I have to.”

_Right._

Andrew stood. He couldn’t sit here anymore and take this without punching Matt straight in his fucking face. He grabbed his bags. “I think I should go,” he forced out. 

“Best idea you’ve had.” Matt got up, sent one last scathing glare towards Andrew, then left the way he came - slamming a door behind him. Andrew didn’t know if it was his bedroom or Neil’s. He clamped down whatever part was screaming at him, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and made for the door before stopping.

_Wait._

He turned back around and sat on the couch. From his bag, he pulled out his notebook and the pack of skittles, then quickly scribbled a note with a purple pen. After a moment's hesitation, he also pulled out his wallet. 

Opening it with shaky hands, he held his breath for a reason he didn’t know, and pulled out the picture of the two of them from the Grand Canyon. He _did not_ look at the tiny smile in the corner of Neil’s mouth and said smile _did not_ make his chest hurt even more. With a hard swallow, Andrew tore his eyes away and placed the photo inside the folded note, before sliding it under the skittles and placing them on the coffee table. 

Standing again, he finally made his way out of the apartment - phone in hand and ringing once before someone answered. 

“Reynolds. I’m in New York and I need a place to stay.”

* * *

 

Neil woke the next morning feeling like death. His eyes were puffy and swollen, and his body ached like nothing else. He lay in bed, staring through blurry eyes to the ceiling as he relished in the full minute of blankness, before he remembered. 

_Andrew_

He sat up straight, head pounding and temples pulsing so intensely that he had to close his eyes and press his palms against them until he saw complete blackness. 

_Fuck._

_Is he here?_

Abruptly, Neil threw the covers off and Sir gave a grumpy mewl from under the blanket. He moved it quickly and picked her up. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, giving her a squeeze. Matt had brought her into his room last night after he’d fled from his fight with Andrew. He could tell Neil didn’t want to talk about it - So, he didn’t push, _he never did_. He did, however, lay on the bed next to Neil in silence. His warm presence was enough to keep him grounded and allow him to eventually drift into a blank, exhausted, sleep. 

_I still feel like shit._

He brought her with him ~~_just in case_ ~~ as he opened the door quietly and peeked his head out, as if expecting Andrew to be stubbornly standing there. ~~_He wasn’t_ ~~ ~~.~~ Neil opened the door wider and stepped out. Noises sounded from the kitchen, so he followed them only to find Matt cooking bacon. When Neil pulled one of the stools out from the counter, Matt turned and gave him a smile. 

“Hey! Sit, I’m making breakfast!” He pointed with his spatula, eyes bright - too bright. Matt was usually cheery, but this was forced. 

Neil looked around, hand stroking through Sir’s fur. He leaned so his body was angled towards the living room and noticed the couch had not been slept on. 

“He’s not here,” Matt said, more subdued. “Left last night.”

“Oh.” 

_That’s a good thing, Nathaniel._

“He left something for you,” Matt turned back to his bacon, but gestured in the general direction from over his shoulder, “On the coffee table.”

Neil raised a brow, “And you didn’t immediately toss it?”

Matt shrugged. “Thought about it. Just didn’t seem fair. It’s up to you, what you want to do with it.”

Neil set Sir down and walked to the living room. There was a note with _Neil_ scrawled across it in purple pen. It was kept in place by a pack of skittles. 

_Skittles._

_‘What kind of kid doesn’t like sweets?’_

Neil almost smiled, despite himself. God, it’d been so long ago and the anger he felt inside had been real and hot and fierce. He reached for it now, needed it to wipe the smile threatening to tug, completely from his face... But, last night had drained so much out of him, that all he felt in the hole his anger had burned away, was a sort of grim acceptance. 

When he picked up the note, he didn’t crumple it up and throw it away - didn’t rip it into a million tiny pieces like the voice ~~_his mother_ ~~ inside his head screamed at him to do. No, instead, he sat on the couch and unfolded it slowly. As he did, something fell out onto his lap. He picked it up with one hand, but focused his eyes on the other, at words scribbled on a page that made his head hurt and chest ache with another sort of pain. 

_‘I’m not leaving the city. Not yet. If you want to talk, call me. It doesn’t have to be about the case or the podcast or anything. I’ll buy you a hotdog. -A_

_P.S. I kept it for you.’_

Neil looked down at the thing that had fallen out. It was a photo and when he realized _what_ photo, he nearly dropped it. 

There they stood in the small snack bar at the Grand Canyon. They looked so little... so young - free of many scars, but knowing what sort of future lay ahead. Their eyes matched and matched in a way he didn’t think they would in many other people. They were eyes that had known too much, too young. 

_‘Keep it for me, okay? Bring it next time we meet.’_

Neil closed his eyes tight against the memory and held the picture to his forehead. The image was seared behind his eyes - blue and gold and blond and brown and blood and scars and truths and secrets. He couldn’t unsee it now, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

_He held onto it. All this time, he held onto it._

_‘It wasn’t meaningless to me.’_

* * *

 

Andrew woke up Tuesday morning in Allison’s Greenwich Village penthouse apartment. 

When he’d called the night before, she didn’t ask many questions. He’d thought about a hotel, thought about a hostel or an airbnb - but his mind was muddled and his eyes ached and he just wanted to fucking sleep. Anyway, he would’ve needed Allison to make the reservation, so she cut the bullshit and gave him the address and security code of one of her apartments scattered about the country, then let the building know that he’d be staying there for a while. 

_‘How long will you be there?’_

_‘I don’t know.’_

She’d sighed then, resigned, as they all were on the matter of Andrew doing things the way _he_ needed them done. But, that was it. She didn’t ask questions, she didn’t dig. She just gave him what he needed and ended the call with, _‘don’t get yourself killed,’_ before hanging up. 

When he got there, he’d rolled his eyes at the opulence. Four bedrooms and four bathrooms, there were windows everywhere and they made Andrew feel exposed. Three floors of windows and wood and tile and little touches that were so extravagantly Allison. The only upside was that there was a rooftop deck, complete with plush outdoor chairs and a giant grilling station. That’s where he sat most of the night - chain smoking and watching the starless sky. 

He rolled over and rubbed a hand over his chest, thinking of the way it felt yesterday - how it still felt now. 

_I’m not leaving._

Not until he had this settled with Neil; even if it meant having to shut down the podcast completely. If they could just... leave on good terms. If he could just make Neil understand that his intentions have been good and true this whole time. 

He sat up in the bed he’d eventually dragged himself into at whatever-the-fuck hour this morning, and slowly put both feet on the cold hardwood floor. The effort it took to force himself to walk to one of the high windows and peel back the curtain, was monstrous. He felt like it took everything out of him. 

Andrew squinted in the sunlight and gripped the curtains tight in his fists as he looked out at the city. 

He hadn’t been here in so long. 

After Columbia and the New York Times, he hadn’t spent much time here. He’d loved it then though - loved how big it felt, how it seemed like he could disappear wherever he wanted. 

_Now?_

Now, it was never ending buildings and people and distance separating him from his _goal_. So close, yet so far and so, so, incredibly long. There was nothing he could do but wait. 

_So I will._

_-_

By Thursday, Andrew was going stir crazy and he felt like he could jump out of his own skin. Neil still hadn’t called and Andrew _still_ had no answers. He’d checked in with Renee a couple of times; told Dan that no, there wouldn’t be a podcast on Sunday; called Bee and let her say all the soothing things she knew to say when he was falling apart, without actually telling her _why_. 

He worked out in Allison’s home gym until he thought his arms would fall off and eventually, decided he needed real food. Over the past few days, he’d picked up a few things from a bodega nearby, but he’d been mostly living off chips and bacon. Not that he minded chips and bacon... But really, he just needed an excuse to get the fuck out this place. 

The only thing, he decided, that would make this shit situation any bit better, was a trip to Bubby’s at the Highline. He used to go all the time when he was living in the city and nothing could beat a high stack of overpriced pancakes. 

Rather than take the subway, he put on sneakers and walked instead to try and clear his head. He could feel himself retreating to that space in his mind where the hermit lived and darkness festered - the place that didn’t allow him to talk to anyone for days and days, and wanted to stay secluded in loneliness as a form of self-punishment. No, he walked under the high sun and tried to _breathe._

By the time he made it to Bubby’s, he was feeling a bit more grounded, centered, as human as he could under... well, everything. He sat at one of the wooden tables and ordered the Pancake Flight, determined to let Nutella and whipped cream work its magic on his mood. 

It did enough.

Enough, that is, to spur him to walk more instead of retreating back to the apartment, to loneliness, to solitude. 

From the Bubby’s entrance was the stairs leading to the Highline. He took them two at a time and let his feet carry him along the memorized route to the Glazed and Confused donut cart. He hadn’t been here in years - not since one of his last weeks working at the NYT and Renee visited for a weekend. 

It was exactly as he remembered, in the same spot as it had always been.

_Maybe a sugar induced coma will help push this excruciating wait along._

He couldn’t remember ordering, but his eyes zoned in on the basket of cookies and cream mini-donuts entering his hands, when suddenly, someone ran into him from behind. He watched as his donuts fell in practically slow motion - cream and confection splattering to the ground and his shoes, and successfully snapping the last of his thinly held patience in two.

* * *

 

Neil was running. He’d _been_ running on the treadmill since Tuesday - running until his legs could run no more. 

_I don’t know what else to do._

~~_Ironic._ ~~

His mind was in complete turmoil. He knew Andrew was still in the city. He didn’t know where, but he believed him - he believed he would stay until Neil was ready to talk. 

 _I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready_. 

So, until then, he ran. Today, he finally forced himself out of the apartment to do more than go to work. Today, he had no _real_ destination, but just to go, go, _go, go, go_. He took the path through Central Park, past the American Museum of Natural History, brownstones, and down the river. Now, he was here, running past people and shops and feeling his shirt cling to him - sticky with sweat in the New York heat. He didn’t care. He kept running. 

The Highline was beautiful. People milled, distracted with food and shops and lounging and dogs. He felt anonymously exposed and it was a feeling that he couldn’t really explain. With eyes open, he scanned this way and that, making sure no _Black Suits_ or _Tattoo Sleeves_ lingered on him for too long. He wasn’t sure if having Andrew nearby made him more paranoid than usual. 

He wished he could stop thinking about him. His name alone set his teeth on edge and that picture? He’d put it in a drawer in his room and hadn’t looked at it again. 

_I can’t._

Because if he did, it would be so easy... so, so _easy_ to slip back to that day - to remember how he’d felt-

“ _Oof._ ”

Neil ran into something solid and bounced back. Before he could get his bearings, he heard, _“You have got to be_ **_fucking_ ** _kidding me.”_

  
He looked up to see Andrew, standing there in a tank top and arm bands ~~_\- real_ ~~ ~~.~~ He looked like he was dressed for the gym (still in all black, of _course_ . _Isn’t he fucking hot? What a fucking idiot. I cant-)._ He wore thin sweats tapered at the ankle, with running shoes covered in chocolate sauce, cream, and powdered sugar splattered over them. Andrew was glowering, eyes so hot and jaw so tight he looked like his head was ready to explode and Neil... Well, he couldn’t help it. 

He laughed. 

He laughed so hard and found his finger pointing at Andrew’s shoes and Andrew looked like he might throttle him. 

_I’d love to see you try._

“It’s not fucking funny! You just ruined my fucking _donuts_ ! How the fuck even-” He curled his lip and picked up the fallen basket. “You and your _fucking fate!”_ he cursed and Neil stopped laughing immediately. 

_Fate -_

“What?”

“What are the fucking odds that of all the idiots in this entire fucking city, _you’re_ the one who slams into me? Ruining my donuts?! How is this even possible?!”

Neil stood up straight, inhaled a deep breath and took a step towards Andrew as he nodded his head, “Oh, I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t realize those donuts meant so fucking much to you. Seems like you should try using that sort of emotion for,” he shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips as if he were thinking, “I don’t know... People, maybe?” Andrew narrowed his eyes at him and Neil was tempted to keep this going, but he just looked around and scoffed at how fucking ridiculous this all was. “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway? Are you fucking tracking me now? Stalker much? What are you doing on my running route?!”

_Yours?_

Andrew pulled back his chin. “What are _you_ doing at _my_ donut stand?!”

Neil bristled and ignored the quiet ‘ _um, guys...’_ from the man running the stand. “This isn’t _your_ donut stand, asshole. Jesus fucking Christ you have a fucking complex. Why do you think you’re owed so _goddamn_ much?”

Andrew pressed his lips together and Neil gave him a little smirk that he knew would piss him off even more. “Fuck off,” Andrew finally said. “I told you I would stay until you want to talk and I _will_ . But I’m not going to stand here just so you can berate me some more over something _you won’t even let me fucking explain._ ”

“Hey guys.” They both whipped around to the guy running the donut stand. “You seem like a cute couple, and I hope you can work out whatever this is, but do you mind moving? Here, two baskets of donuts, on the house. Just please leave.”

“A couple?! Yeah fucking right,” Neil said, offended at the suggestion. 

 _As if I would_ **_ever_ ** _with this jerk._

Andrew grabbed both baskets of donuts and made to walk away. 

_Where do you think you’re going?!_

~~_Nathaniel, walk away_ ~~

_Shut up._

“Hey!” Neil called, “Where are you going?! One of those is mine!”

A pull, something magnetic, Neil didn’t fucking know. His feet carried him to follow and he was too weak to stop himself. 

“Nope,” Andrew called over his shoulder. “They’re both mine. You fucking owe me for ruining the first batch.”

Neil sped up until he was in front of him. “ _I_ owe _you_?!” Neil hissed, incredulous and made to grab one of the baskets. 

Andrew held it out of reach (which would be nothing if Neil weren’t nearly the same size as him), “Ah, ah. _My_ donuts.”

Neil felt himself grind his teeth together and he didn’t know if it was because he was stepping into Andrew’s personal space, or if it was because somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that he was taller than him now. ~~_Just a little_ ~~ ~~.~~  

Maybe it was because without his mind telling his body to move, he made a grab for one of the baskets as fast as he could, and just as quick, Andrew yanked it away - only, he overcompensated and Neil watched as he started to tumble backwards. 

Just as he was getting a grip on his mentality and forcing himself to prepare to point and laugh again, he tried to take a step back - which only succeeded in tangling their feet and bringing Neil down with him. They landed in a heap on the ground, donuts and chocolate sauce following them with a _splat_ , so that they were both nicely covered. 

_What-_

His mind wasn’t working properly. Rather than get up and run, get away, he laid there with Andrew for a minute on their backs, both panting and listening to the chatter of New York as they forced air into their lungs. Neil, despite himself, turned to look at Andrew just as Andrew turned his head to look at him. And Nei? He couldn’t help it - truly, he couldn’t. He laughed again and then some more when Andrew rolled his eyes. 

“I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Neil saw his finger point, “You have chocolate in your ear.”

 ~~_Get a fucking grip on yourself. What the fuck are you doing, Nathaniel? Are you trying to make yourself a bigger target? Get yourself killed? Are you trying to make friends with the man that ruined your fucking life? He could get you killed, he could ruin everything. He’s already done so much and -_ ~~  

He ignored the voice inside his head in favor of watching Andrew sigh and rub at his ear, before sitting up in one swift motion. Neil followed. 

“Coffee, then?” Andrew asked. 

~~_No, Nathaniel._ ~~

~~_Nathaniel._ ~~

Neil stared at him for a moment. His brows furrowed and he tried to think of what just happened here. Not _here_ , not them falling and powdered sugar and sauce covering his shirt and pants, but _here, here_ . Something about _this_ did wonders on his outlook of, well. _Him._

Neil studied him for a second more before saying ‘sure’ (he thought) and followed Andrew to the nearest coffee shop. 

In the time it took for them to sit at a table in the back, his mother's voice inside his head must have run herself ragged, because he could no longer hear her. 

“Regular coffee?” Andrew asked, pulling out his wallet from across from him. 

“Sounds good.”

_What does?_

“No sugar, right?”

_Oh. Coffee._

Neil raised a brow at him. “Sure, stalker.”

He could’ve sworn a very small smile was trying to work its way up to Andrew’s lips, but he turned away before Neil could be so sure. 

“And some water!” He called at his back, just to annoy him. 

Then wondered, very suddenly, why the fuck he was even here in the first place. 

_Because -_

Neil stayed where he was while Andrew was gone and started wiping the visible sugary carnage away from his person with napkins at the table. 

_What am I doing?_

_I should be angry._

_I_ **_am_ ** _angry._

_So what am I doing?_

~~_I don’t know._ ~~

Maybe something had changed. Maybe, laying everything out on the table that first night had been cathartic and Neil hadn’t even realized it. Maybe, seeing the picture had been a punch... Maybe something was shifting and Neil didn’t know what or how he could change it or if he wanted to. 

He still thought Andrew was ridiculous - still thought he’d been selfish and blind to what all of this meant for Neil but - 

_‘It wasn’t meaningless to me.’_

Neil’s view of the door was suddenly obstructed by something dark. Andrew set a cup of coffee and a bottle of water in front of him and the sound of his own voice started Neil enough to clear his voice after saying a quick, breathless, “Thanks.”

Andrew shrugged. 

_Silence. Quiet. Chatter and mugs ting ting tinging against saucers. Espresso in the air and honey and -_

“So,” Neil broke the outward silence and internal noise. “Journalism, huh?” He wasn’t ready to get into the heavy shit yet. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen here? More talks? More explanations? Answers?

“Journalism,” Andrew nodded, then shrugged. Surprisingly, he gave into the _whatever_ Neil had set up. “I like to write. I like to dig where I probably shouldn’t.” He pressed his lips together and for a moment, the easiness Neil _should_ be _uneasy_ about broke. A look of guilt crossed Andrew’s face, but it didn’t linger as he shrugged a shoulder. “I was kind of _‘that guy’_. Am, I guess.”

“ _‘That guy’_?” he heard himself ask. 

“Mm,” Andrew hummed and stirred the whip cream at the top of his drink into the hot liquid underneath. “That would take on big corporations and institutions to see what was underneath all that _shine_. Pissed a fair amount of people off.” He licked his spoon. 

Neil nodded slowly and swallowed before lifting his own hot mug to his lips. “I can see that. You’re super _fucking_ nosy.” There wasn’t any heat where it should’ve been. 

~~_What are you doing?_ ~~

Andrew nodded seriously, “I am.” and then, “What about you? I know you’ve been hiding out. But, you had a job in Arizona, according to Ashleigh ‘ _Murdernerd_ ’ Miller. What’s been your favorite job you’ve worked?”

Neil relished in the burn of his coffee - small penance for his stupidity. He contemplated not answering, keeping Andrew in the dark. He had enough, didn’t he? Digging, digging, digging, gathering information that wasn’t his to share, and what if he took everything he said now and exposed him for it anyway...?

_He wouldn’t._

Exhaustion hit him all of a sudden and he felt his shoulders slump under its weight. Setting his mug down, he responded because _why not?_ “The bookshop was nice, even with Ashleigh. She would mostly leave me alone though. Not a lot of people came in. I could hang out in the sports section.”

“Exy.”

Neil smiled a little, despite himself, despite how so very _tired_ he was. “Exy. But I’m working at the Lynxes stadium now, cleaning up.” ~~_He doesn’t need to know this -_ ~~ “Janitorial stuff. The work is boring, but it’s pretty fucking awesome to be able to watch the games up close and to just be in the stadium. Matt lets me play with him sometimes after practice is over.”

“You any good?” Andrew asked.

Neil laughed a little. “Probably not. But Matt makes me feel like I could’ve gone pro, once upon a time.”

_Once upon a time. If things had been different. If I’d been able to lead a normal life._

~~_What would that even be like?_ ~~

Neil cleared his throat. “So,” he inhaled a breath and glanced around the cafe, but ended back on Andrew. “What happened when you left the house you were in? I remember... I remember you didn’t want to stay.” He found his eyes focusing on Andrew’s armbands but didn’t want to ask. He remembered though, remembered the cuts that marred pale skin-

_Forgotten skittles and blood on pale skin. So familiar, so foreign, so wrong and desperate and_

_“Do you want to die?” he remembered whispering. “Is that why you do that?”_

_He didn’t understand how someone could do that to themselves. The amount of people that had took liberties in taking blades to his flesh were - and to do that to yourself...?_

_“Shit things happen, Alex. Sometimes, all we can do is hang the fuck on and do the best we can-”_

Andrew shook his head and looked down into his cup. The light from the window glinted off the his piercings and the metal frames of his glasses. Neil followed the curve of them with his eyes. 

“I went to juvie.”

_Right.._

“Oh,” he remembered. “I heard…when you were explaining on the podcast.”

Andrew wet his lips, “It’s a long story,” he sighed, looking up. “But, it ended up being one of the best things that could’ve happened. That and Bee, the woman who became my guardian.”

“Bee?” Neil said, realization dawning. His eyes glanced towards Andrew’s ear. “Your tattoo.”

Andrew rubbed at the spot and nodded, “My tattoo. She buzzes in my ear. I try to listen to her.”

“Yeah? What’s she saying right now?” Neil asked with a grin. He meant it to be mocking. Andrew did not take it as such.

Andrew locked eyes with him and Neil was once again reminded of their pinky promise - sharing space and air and _secrets_. 

“She’s saying I should tell you again, that I’m sorry. You were right. I was wrong. And it takes a hell of a lot for me to admit I was wrong about anything.” Andrew’s fingers twitched on the table and he shook his head. “I thought I was doing the right thing... Turns out, I was doing the _quick_ thing, the thing that would give me information in the fastest way possible. I’m not sorry I found you - but I _am_ sorry that you had to relive your trauma because of me. I can't imagine if I had to relive mine publicly like that.”

Neil said nothing, he couldn’t. He just stared at him because -

_I’m not ready to forgive you. Not so soon. Not after everything._

“Do you want me to go?” Andrew asked quietly, “Do you want me to leave the city?”

~~_Yes._ ~~

~~_No._ ~~

_No._

_Yes?_

Neil stood, then. He didn’t want to answer this question, didn’t know how. Yesterday, he would’ve said, _‘Yes. Finally. Please leave and never fucking come back.’_ Now? He wasn’t sure and it was too much to sit here and look at _him_ and remember the picture and think about _it_. 

“I don’t know,” he forced out, grabbing the bottle of water and leaving the coffee. He made for the door but hesitated for a moment as he passed him. “I’ll call you.” 

He turned and left, not looking back, he couldn’t see Andrew’s face. 

_Don’t look back._

* * *

 

Andrew was left feeling hollow and rung dry after his conversation with Neil in the coffee shop. 

_‘I’ll call you.’_

He still hadn’t heard from him.

It was Friday afternoon and Andrew was glued to his phone - determined to be right there if Neil decided to call. 

_I should go. I’ve done enough damage. To stick around when Neil hurt, while he’s angry... It’s a horrible idea._

_It’s selfish._

~~_I don’t want to leave things undone, unsaid, unresolved._ ~~

_Saturday._

_I’ll leave Saturday if he doesn’t call._

That night, his phone pinged with a text.

* * *

 

Neil was at the stadium Friday night, cleaning up after practice. Robotically, he went through the familiar motions. He was on the court floor, checking for stray balls and powerade bottles when he stopped and sat on one of the benches. The trash bag he was holding fell through his fingers and his eyes stared into _nothingness_ as he was consumed by questions, decisions, and apprehensions festering inside his head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He looked up to see Matt walking towards him. Neil gave him a small smile, mostly so he didn’t worry too much. “Oh, you know. Dramatic turmoil and reminisce.”

“The usual, then?” Matt asked with a grin. 

Neil nodded and pulled his phone out, looking at the blank screen for the millionth time in the past few days.

“Have you decided?” Matt asked, lowering to sit beside him on the bench. “If you want him to stay or go?”

_Yes._

“I think so. But I have no idea if it’s the right decision,” Neil bit the inside of his lip briefly. He said on an inhale, “It’s just the one I keep coming back to.”

Matt shrugged and tapped his fingers against his knee. “Then I guess that’s your answer.” He then stood and clapped Neil on the back. “I’ll meet you in the lounge when you’re done.” 

Neil nodded, and unlocked his phone.

_‘Stay.’_

* * *

 

_‘Okay.’_

That’s all Andrew had replied. He didn’t want to push Neil to meet again and for now, he was content with that answer. 

He didn’t hear from Neil again until Saturday night. His phone lit with a text inviting Andrew over to the apartment, if he wanted. They could sit and talk more. Hash things out.

Andrew sent back, _‘On my way’_ and left Allison’s as quickly as he could. His heart was pounding strong in his chest and he was glad he knew the city so well. He took the quickest route he knew to get to the upper east side and only realized as he arose from the station on 5th and Lexington, that his palms were sweaty and he didn’t know how this would go. 

Nonetheless, he ended up at ~~Matt~~ Neil’s apartment around 8PM. With a text, Neil buzzed him up and opened the door for him before he could even knocked. Andrew walked past him, feeling nervous and young, and just a tiny bit stupid. 

_I am._

“I ordered pizza,” Neil said and pointed to the kitchen, “You can have some, if you want. Matt has an away game tonight, so he’s not here.”

Andrew glanced towards the TV in the living room as he passed and couldn’t help commenting, “And you’re not watching it?” Most exy games started at 8. 

Neil rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

It was banter. Like they were old friends. 

 _We are_ ~~_n’t._ ~~

Andrew grabbed a slice of pepperoni and the plate already set on the counter. He carried both into the living room after ripping off a paper towel, and followed Neil to the couch. He placed his plate on the coffee table as he sat and Neil lowered himself to sit sideways on the couch, facing him. Andrew took a bite, just for something to do as Neil scrutinized him in silence. 

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

He choked. Somehow, the pizza was between his teeth, then lodged in his throat when the words hit him and he pounded on his chest to try and dislodge the greasy fucking cheese. _The fuck was this!?_ Was this how he was going to fucking die? Sitting next to the first guy he ever had a crush on, asking him to show him his dick?! It made so much sense. 

Neil got up and started pounding on Andrew’s back and eventually, the cheese came up and he was able to breathe again. 

“What,” he gasped, “the fuck?!”

Neil furrowed his brows. “What?!” he asked, getting up quickly. From the kitchen, he heard the water dispenser on the fridge sound and was back beside him before he knew it. “Like, in the snack - the scars?!” Neil said, shoving the plate aside and sitting on the coffee table in front of Andrew to hand him the glass. 

 _You’ve got to be -_  

Andrew took a deep breath and took one long sip before setting it heavily beside Neil on the glass top. _Oh. ‘I showed you mine. Now show me yours.’_

He rolled his eyes so wide he could’ve seen the back of his _fucking_ head.  “God, you’re an idiot...”

“Look who’s the fucking idiot. Eat much? Jesus, I just meant tell me your story and I’ll do the same. Like. After we met.”

“Then say that next time, fuck,” Andrew mumbled, sinking back into the cushions and wiping the corners of his mouth with the paper towel.

“What?”

“Nothing,” _Fucking hell,_ “So, after we met, I told you I went to juvie?” _Move on. Follow the flow. Don’t get caught up._ ~~_Fucking dumb ass_ _._ ~~

Neil relocated back beside him on the couch as he nodded. 

Andrew didn’t know how much to tell him, but he figured it was a good start - a good... peace offering. 

“Well,” he started, wiping the grease from his hands and tossing the crumpled towel to his plate. “I found out I have an identical twin brother. He contacted me when I was still living with the Spears and he wanted to meet.” For a moment, Andrew was going to pause. It turned into hesitation as he continued, “I didn’t.” He rubbed his Bee tattoo. She was starting to buzz - just a quiet breeze of wings against his skin. 

 _Do I tell him?_ **_Should_ ** _I tell him?_

“An identical twin brother? My god, you’ve had a soap opera life, haven’t you?”

Andrew raised a brow at him. Neil laughed. “Okay, point taken. Why didn’t you want to meet him?”

_No secrets._

Andrew inhaled a deep breath. “Do you remember... when I found you at the Grand Canyon? You were talking to Drake, my foster brother?” 

His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. Like fists, he swore they would have broken through his ribs, if it weren’t for the presence of _another_ beside him - someone just as broken and scared and _hurt_ , even if it all was done differently. 

He didn’t talk to anyone but Bee about this. Ever. And even letting her in was one of the hardest things he’s ever done. 

“Ah, yeah. Handsy guy. Touched my hair, kept trying to touch my arm.”

Andrew nodded. He didn’t say anything for a minute, just looking down to his lap. He remembered it so vividly... Remembered how desperate he felt in that moment to get to _that boy_ , to save him from Drakes wandering hands and disgusting intentions. 

_“Oh look, AJ! Looks like Drake found a friend for you! He looks about your age.”_

He remembered how his feet couldn’t bring him there fast enough - 

Remembered how 

_Drake pushed the hair back from the kid’s forehead, tried not to sprint when he saw the kid visibly flinch._

He heard Neil suck in a breath after the silence stretched between them. 

“Oh. Oh, I’m…sorry? I don’t-“

“It’s fine,” Andrew said abruptly. 

_You’re okay._

_I’m okay._

“It was a long time ago and I’ve... I’m not _okay_ , but I’ve made peace with what I can with it.” He cocked his jaw and bit his lip ring for a second. “Anyway, I didn’t want my brother brought into that house or anywhere near Drake. So,” he took a deep breath. “Being the rational fourteen year old that I was, I got hit with a breaking and entering charge, and got myself sent to juvie - don’t you have a cat?”

Neil blinked a few times before answering. “Yes?”

“Where is it?”

“She’s in my room. I put her up so she wouldn’t bug us. She’s an ESA so she’s usually on top of me since I’m a walking disaster.”

“Cool. Same. Can she come out?” Andrew asked and fingered the hem of his armband at his wrist. 

_I miss King._

He missed her like a fucking limb and he wanted something solid to hold onto - _needed_ something to put _everything_ at ease. 

Neil got up wordlessly and Andrew heard him open a door. There was a jingle of a collar and a soft ‘meow’, before he came back into the room holding the gray tabby. 

“This is Sir,” he said, holding her close. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s pretty cool.”

Andrew laughed a little. “Your female cat is named Sir and my female cat is named King.”

“Ah, the cosmos have come to fuck with us once more,” Neil said with a rare, but... unguarded smile. 

Andrew was weak to resist and he smiled tentatively back, before sliding from the couch to the floor to try and coax Sir over to him. It wasn’t hard. She padded over and rubbed her head immediately under his hand. The effect was almost automatic. He felt himself relax a little and though it was still hard, he felt a small ease to breathing. It wasn’t the same as King, obviously. _Nothing could be the same as her._ But it was _something_ and Andrew drew the cat into his lap as he forced debate from his mind and continued his story. 

He told him everything. About going to live with Aaron and _some_ of Tilda, about Nicky, Bee, PSU and Columbia, the Boston Globe. He told him about Bella being born - about writing the statement against Drake.

About seeing the doc and realizing for the first time who Alex really was. 

He told him about the search... About Renee and the journey and how he thought Neil was dead in California. 

He stopped there. Because Neil knew the rest and he didn’t want to think about how he’d felt when he thought those were Neil’s bones on that beach. 

_The pain -_

“What would you have done?” Neil asked, quietly. “If it had been me and not my mother. Would you have kept looking for her?”

“Yes,” Andrew answered immediately. His throat ached from speaking so much, even with the water Neil had refilled halfway through his story. “I would’ve kept looking for her. Helped her if I could.”

Neil studied him for a long moment, something settling in his guarded eyes. He nodded then, and Sir moved from Andrew’s lap to his - as if she could feel the shift in the room. Andrew was sad for the loss of warmth, but glad for the way she seemed to help Neil’s shoulders relax, even if it was just a bit. 

“That’s it, basically,” Andrew ended. “All that and I just... I don’t know.” He looked down at his chipping nails and peeled a small patch of black away. “I’ve always had you in the back of my mind which yes,” he nodded, “Sounds stalkerish, I’m sure - but I just... I just really wanted to help you.” He lifted his head and met Neil’s eyes. Bee was quiet, like she was allowing him to have this moment, get out these words. “I got out, like you said. I found my family, and Bee, and I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I hadn’t. I just wanted to get you out, too.”

He felt scraped raw. His insides felt exposed. He hated and relished in it at the same time. He wanted to hide, but was so _relieved_ in this weird and indescribable way for the pure fact that he was being _seen_ by this person that he’d shared such a pivotal moment with. 

Andrew pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. They fell back down on his nose when he dropped his hands and he finally met Neil’s gaze again. “So, that was mine. Show me yours?”

* * *

 

Neil looked at the time. It was late, almost 11 o’clock. 

He felt wide awake.

Running a hand down Sir’s back, he shrugged a little. “There’s not a whole not to tell, if I’m being honest.” His fingers sunk in her fur. She was so _soft_ . “When my mom died, I did what I had to in California. We’d... planned if something happened to one of us. Then,” He skipped it all. Andrew knew enough, there was no need rehashing - putting himself through that pain again and feeding in to relapse. “I left the beach and found an empty house with a working phone. I tried calling you, to see if you were still there in California.” ~~_I don’t know why I did it._ ~~

He said this all as casually as he could, but none of it felt casual. He swallowed the disappointment he’d felt that day when the woman on the phone said Andrew didn’t live there anymore. He could taste it on his tongue and -

_He remembered._

He remembered how he didn’t even bother hanging up the phone, positively defeated. Remembered the hollowness in his chest from the loss of his mother and the fear and _disappointment_ , that he could barely stand straight. He remembered giving into the weight and sinking to the floor, biting into his lip so hard that he tasted blood and buried his fingers in his hair. 

He remembered banishing whatever thoughts, whatever possibilities that had spring so desperately in his mind as he stumbled his way to that house, away. Remembered how _hopeful_ how _close_ they felt... That Andrew was there and he could reach and they could run away like they said they would. 

 _Childish thoughts_. 

He remembered the relief that Andrew. Got. Out. The crushing fear that he was still stuck beneath _it all_. 

“I’m sorry,” Andrew said quietly. “I’m sorry again, that I wasn’t there. I would’ve come to find you - to help.”

“I’m not,” Neil shook his head and his voice was stronger than he felt. “Like I said, I was happy you got out. I didn’t know why, but I knew there was something... I was _happy_ that one of us got _out_.”

His mother's voice in his head didn’t silence him from speaking these truths. No. Nothing stopped him. 

“Destruction of the smallest things,” Andrew murmured. 

Neil nodded. 

It was that and the fact that Neil now realized... Andrew had pulled him away all those years ago, to protect him from his own abuser - to protect him against someone he was unable to protect _himself_ against. Neil raised his head quickly, breath caught in his throat as he looked to those _honey gold_ eyes. His brow twisted and Andrew own brows furrowed but - 

_But, but, but  -_

Neil forced a deep breath into his lungs - tried to pull as much oxygen from the air as he could as he broke his eyes away and pushed on. 

“So, I left.” He looked down to Sir in his lap. “I went to Arizona, used my fake ID’s to enroll in a high school there. I played exy my senior year then just... kind of went from town to town after I graduated. I stayed there too long.” 

_Far too long._

“Why Arizona?” Andrew asked. Neil didn’t want to, but he lifted his gaze until the two of them connected. The answer was obvious and it was something that Neil didn’t think he could say aloud - not yet, not after the anger that roiled so hot in his center for the past few days. 

Andrew looked away first and pressed his lips together with a nod. After a long second of silence, he asked quietly, “I guess it wasn’t meaningless then, was it?”

“No,” Neil said. He couldn’t stop himself. Words were falling from his lips and his mother was pounding at the back of his head to _shut up, shut up, shut up_ but - “It wasn’t meaningless. I held onto that postcard. I don’t know _why-_ ” he shrugged a shoulder and felt a huff leave his lungs as he laughed humorlessly. “I guess the same reason you held onto the picture.” he forced himself to stroke Sir’s fur, soak in her warmth. “I held on to it, through running and bleeding and my mother being shot and her death - I kept it.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, but he moved his spot on the floor to the other end of the couch. Neil was stretched out with his legs in front of him, and after kicking off his boots, Andrew did the same. 

_They could’ve knocked feet, if either of them were willing to do it._

“Anyway,” Neil eventually continued. “I heard the podcast via Ashleigh and panicked. I ran here because I had a contact that would help me get new papers. I was planning on leaving the country, but my contact got popped by the FBI before I could. I blew most of my money on that so... I’ve just been kind of... stuck here.”

Andrew nodded slowly, even reached over and stroked his hand over Sir’s waving tail. 

“How did you end up here? With Matt Boyd?” he eventually asked. 

Neil laughed a little, because this story was just as ridiculous as the rest. “He hit me with his truck.”

Andrew laughed, “He what?”

Neil grinned. “It sounds insane, but really. He hit me with his truck when I was running to meet my contact. I refused a hospital so he brought me back here, hooked me up with the stadium job. He’s…he’s honestly the best person I know. Not that I know many people.”

Andrew chewed his lip and Neil watched his lip ring disappear behind his teeth. “Are you two…?”

Neil waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Are we what?”

“Are you…you know. Together?”

_Are we -_

Neil looked at him stunned for a minute before tossing his head back and laughing loudly. “No! Oh my god,” the tension in his chest partly released all of a sudden and for a moment, he felt _okay._ “No honestly. Fuck, ‘are we together?’ No.” he shook his head. “He’s just a really good fucking friend. He’s like an older brother that acts like a Dad. I’d probably already be dead or something if he hadn’t taken me in and let me live here.”

Andrew shrugged, amusement shining in his gold eyes. “Just asking. He seems…very protective.”

“He is. And it drives me nuts sometimes. But he has a big heart and just wants to help.”

Andrew hummed at that and remembered Andrew saying the same. _I just want to help._

Yeah. Well.

_He can take a few lessons from Matt in what that should fucking look like._

“When did you know it was me?” Andrew asked, knocking Neil out of his thoughts. “When did you realize I was the one doing the podcast?”

“The Kathy Ferdinand Show.”

Andrew raised his brows. “Wow. So, like...in the beginning, I was just a random asshole looking to get you killed instead of an asshole you knew? How impersonal.”

Neil rolled his eyes and fought the smile threatening to bloom on his lips. “Yes, it was quite distressing,” A smirk made its way regardless. Neil bit his lip to make it go away. He shook his head, “I never saw your face before then... Never looked at any of the pictures of the website. The only one I saw was of Dan Wilds because Matt’s fucking obsessed.”

“With Dan?”

“Oh yeah,” he rolled his eyes again, couldn’t help it. “Hardcore crush. I’ve had to hold him off from contacting her because I was afraid he’d out me by accident.” 

_Not that it matters now..._

Andrew grinned a sly grin, “Dan would tear him to fucking pieces. I’d love to see him falling over himself for her. She’d have him by the fucking balls.”

Neil laughed again, he couldn’t help it... “He probably wouldn’t mind, to be honest.”

Their conversation didn’t let up. It was late and Neil knew he should tell Andrew to go home, but they’d started talking about something else completely random and Neil could forget that this situation was incredibly fucked - that he was supposed to be angry still. 

~~_Idiot_ .  ~~

_But it felt so... good._

It wasn’t until he woke up with Sir breathing in his face, that he realized they’d fallen asleep on the couch talking. He sat up slowly, one hand on Sir’s back as he felt something warm and looked down to find his and Andrew’s feet had tangled together. He trailed his eyes up to find Andrew still asleep - cheek pillowed on one black-chipped hand and glasses askew. He smiled, despite himself, and then proceeded to give him a hard kick in the leg. 

Andrew started awake, sitting up in a rush with one hand curled into a fist until he saw Neil. “What the _fuck_ ?!” he asked, glancing around, breathing hard. All at once, he dropped his arm and groaned, moving his hand to the side of his neck to press his fingers in, as he reset his glasses with one hand. Once he seemed fairly _there_ , he grabbed his phone for the time.

It was early Sunday morning. 

“You have to leave, before Matt gets home,” he said casually. That was the last thing he needed. 

“What...?” Andrew asked, blinking rapidly as he dropped his phone in his lap. There were sleep marks in his face a- “Why does it matter if Matt comes home?”

_Because_

“He’ll give me shit if he thinks you spent the night here. Come on.” He found his own legs and stood with aching joints. Tossing Andrew his boots, he set Sir back on the couch and headed towards the door. 

Andrew started pulling them on slowly, clearly not quite fully awake yet. “Why do I feel like I’m fleeing my boyfriends house before his Dad gets home...?”

_Hah. Imagine._

_How things would be different if Matt were my dad._

“I don’t know, but if it makes you move faster,” he shrugged, “sure.” 

Stopping at the beginning of the hall, he turned and watched Andrew stand. He stretched his arms over his head and a small sliver of stomach was exposed when his shirt rode up. Neil glanced back at the clock. He had no idea what time Matt would be home, but it was likely sooner, rather than later. 

Andrew made his way to the door and Neil trailed behind him. “I’ll text you later,” Neil heard himself say. “We can talk more, maybe.”

_No, Nathaniel. Stop being so fucking stupid._

_You’re the one that wanted me to talk in the first place -_ His mom was back, berating him in his head. 

Andrew nodded and paused before he reached for the front door. “Thanks,” He said, voice sleep rough and morning deep. “For giving me a chance.”

_Fuck._

Neil huffed, “Yes, yes. It’s all wonderful and fine, now get the fuck out before I have to explain you.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and left. Neil shut the door and locked it behind him, resting his forehead against it and closing his eyes. 

He took a deep breath and 

Felt lighter than he had in a long time.

* * *

 

_This is a turning point._

Andrew spent Sunday going over the night before again and again in his head. The conversation they’d had...

In a way, it was like the adult version of the one they’d had in the Grand Canyon. To be back in that place with Neil - to be able to have a normal conversation with him,

_I can be okay now._

If Neil told him to get the fuck out and stay out, he’d go. But he hadn’t, not yet. He’d said his piece, he’d explained. This was all up to Neil now. 

He didn’t hear from him again Sunday - didn’t expect to either. He did, however, hear from him on Monday. 

_‘Send me a pic of your cat. Sir is curious.’_

Andrew sent Neil a picture of King on her chair in his office.

_‘This is King. She’s the best cat in the world. Sorry, Sir.’_

_‘Sir respectfully disagrees.’_

And that’s how it went. Their texts continued like that throughout the day. They were light and surface and _good_. Neil sent him a picture of what the stadium looked like from the rafters when he was at work. Andrew sent Neil a picture of the view from Allison’s rooftop. 

When Neil was on his way home (Andrew didn’t have to assume. Neil told him), he sent a text asking if Andrew wanted to come over. 

_‘Will Boyd be there?’_

_‘Yes’_

_‘On my way.’_

He scribbled something on a piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket before leaving. 

He was at _Neil’s_ door within half an hour.

Matt Boyd answered with a scowl. “So,” he started quietly, “you’re back.” He kept the door open only wide enough to peak his head out - not allowing entrance. “Listen, I know Neil trusts you,” ~~_He trusts me?_~~ “but I swear-”

He was cut off abruptly by Andrew shoving the piece of paper in his face. Matt took a quick step back from it and grabbed it with a furrowed brow. When he saw what it actually was, his eyes went wide. 

“No shit?”

“No shit. Can you move now?”

Matt moved to the side, still staring down at Dan Wild’s number with a dopey grin on his face. Rolling his eyes, Andrew walked into the living room to find Neil on the couch. He looked up from where he was sitting and Andrew looked down at him from behind the couch. Neil grinned and Andrew? He couldn’t help it. He grinned back, _such an unfamiliar familiar feeling_. 

“How’d you get Matt to let you in so easily?” Neil inquired, brow raised. “I was so sure he’d make you stand out there for a while.”

Andrew shrugged. “I gave him Dan’s number.”

“Did you really?” Andrew nodded. Neil laughed. “Perfect. Let’s see if he works up the courage to call her.”

The rest of the night consisted of Matt muttering to himself and staring at the slip of paper, and Andrew letting Sir play with his orange shoestrings, while they ate lasagna from some old lady in the building. 

It was nice. 

* * *

 

Tuesday found Neil over at _Allison Reynolds_ with Andrew. It was a ridiculous penthouse that felt _wrong_ in comparison to ~~_the home_ ~~ Matt’s place ~~**_is._ ** ~~ Nonetheless, it was nice because it was open and had access to the roof where they sat now on one of the squishy outdoor couches. 

Neil liked it here, atop this roof and up in the sky. It was easier to breathe - the air not _clean_ (it _was_ New York City), but clear and as fresh as NYC could get. The weather was perfect - not too hot, not too cold. He breathed a sigh and leaned his head back against the couch. Andrew’s warmth soaked into his side and the noise of the city felt like a comforting blanket. No one cared that they were up here - no one knew where they were or what they were doing and it was

_Freeing._

Because here, they could just exist - up here, they were away from the rest of the world...

Andrew’s phone buzzed against Neil’s thigh and he startled.

“Sorry,” Andrew murmured, pulling it out of his pocket and squinting at the screen. Neil watched him hit ignore and set it aside. 

“Ex-girlfriend?” Neil joked. Andrew snorted and took a sip of whatever amber liquor he was drinking from a short glass.

“It’s Dan. She’s pestering me to post something on the webpage. She’s annoyed that I’ve been out of touch for so long.” 

Neil stayed quiet. It was like the bubble around them had been popped. He could practically hear it. 

_Pop, pop, pop._

Then,

“We haven’t talked about it,” Andrew said quietly. _About what?_ “What you want to do now,” he clarified. _Oh._ “I still want to help however I can... I just don’t know what this means for the podcast.”

“I don’t know either,” Neil hadn’t thought about it - had _purposely_ , not thought about it. He’d pulled out that picture of the two kids who had no idea what they were in for and wondered, _What now?_ Then promptly put it away and decided it could wait for another day. 

Another day seemed to be today. 

But, Andrew just nodded, accepting his answer easily. “I think, for now...” Neil turned his head to watch Andrew rub the black ink Bee behind his ear, and smiled at the now _familiar_ gesture. “I should keep posting,” he continued. “Just so people don’t wonder and start looking closer... Last they heard I was in California. I haven’t updated anyone since then.”

_Right._

“So, post something,” he started, then stood and walked to the edge of the roof to look out over the city lights. He didn’t know how to navigate this... If he moved aside that wall of steel he’d set in place to block what was _really_ happening. He enjoyed spending time with Andrew... He liked having a friend, other than Matt - liked being around someone who knew _everything_ and didn’t shy away. He liked having someone who understood _things_ , in a way only people who’ve been through their own trauma understood. But, he didn’t know where to go from here and he closed his eyes to slide that bit of steel back into place. 

When he opened them, he realized _The fall from here seemed very long_. 

He felt Andrew step beside him. They were both barefoot and Neil looked over at him. 

“I’m taller than you now,” he murmured quietly - because it was true and ~~_he needed a distraction_ ~~ he thought it was funny. 

Andrew rolled his eyes, the lights on the roof washing his face in warm yellows. He looked golden all over in this light. “Most people are taller than me. You’re not special.”

_‘Congratulations? I’m shorter than most people. You’re not special.’_

Neil huffed a laugh, both at the memory and _now._ “Am too.”

Andrew didn’t respond. Neil turned around and leaned against the wall of the roof, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Then, there was a question at the tip of his tongue that’d been stirring out his head since the moment Andrew said, _‘I have something of yours’_.

“You have my postcard,” he felt a smirk on his lips. He didn’t know why he felt like he _could right now_. “Do I even want to know how you got it?”

Andrew set his eyes on a point in the city as he shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one before responding. Neil held out a hand and Andrew looked at him with the stick hanging from his lips, brow raised. 

“Smoking will kill you.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky if that’s the thing that takes me out,” Neil replied.

Andrew narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, then shook his head and pulled one out. 

Rather than ask for his lighter, Neil plucked the cigarette from between Andrew’s lips and used it to light his own. 

~~_I don’t know why._ ~~

“I have a lighter, you know.”

Neil shrugged. “You also have my postcard,” he countered. “Why don’t you post that...?” ~~_Nathaniel, don’t be so fucking stupid. Shut your mouth -_ ~~ “Tell people you talked to Ashleigh,” he ignored _her_. “I know they’ve been on your ass about talking to her.” Neil held the cigarette close to his face and breathed in the smoke - let it cloud his senses and her voice and sooth the fuzziness he felt in his brain whenever he and Andrew had these conversations. 

Andrew looked over at him again, studying him for a long moment and Neil didn’t shrink under his scrutiny. Instead, he just watched as the red cherry at the tip of his cigarette bloomed, turning gold to red for just a moment. Then, Andrew shook his head. “I don’t want to do that.” He let smoke out to the side. “That’s... you’ve held on to it all this time. It seems...”

“Wrong?”

“I guess...” _Hm._ “It’ll be fine. Dan will figure something out.”

_You’re so fucking annoying._

Neil sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “Just post the damn postcard. I really don’t mind. It doesn’t tell anyone anything except that I was in Arizona, once upon a time, and Ashleigh’s already done that.”

~~_Solid logic._ ~~

Andrew turned to mirror Neil, leaning against the wall. “You sure?” 

 ~~_No._ ~~

_Yes._

Neil nodded. 

_Yes._

Ten minutes later, they were on a couch in Allison’s living room. Andrew had dug the postcard out of his bag and snapped a picture. The sight of it stirred memories and desperate moments and feelings to the surface. It stirred _fear_ and _want_ and _Andr-_

“Not going to post the back?” Neil forced out, silencing the _whatever_ going on inside. 

Andrew looked up from his phone to give Neil a look, then kept typing. He handed his phone to Neil when he was done so he could see. 

_‘I went to Arizona and spoke with Ashleigh Miller. I was able to obtain this. It belonged to Nathaniel. Seems like he held onto it for a while. -A’_

“You’re bragging,” Neil said, shaking his head ‘sadly’. “Supposed to be looking for a lost boy and instead you’re bragging about how he held on to your postcard. So unprofessional...”

“Yes, well,” Andrew said, taking his phone back. “No one has ever accused me of being professional.” He kept looking through his phone and sighed.

“I’m going to get a bunch of asks now,” he mumbled. “Always happens when I post something.”

_Mr. Popular._

“Oh yeah? Let me see.” Andrew passed the phone over again and Neil read _‘Andrew, could you describe your state of mind atm in 3 words?’_

“What kind of question is that?” Neil asked. Seemed like an odd thing for a stranger to give a fuck about.

“A hard one.”

Neil pointed Andrew’s phone at him, because that was a good answer. When Andrew groaned, Neil looked back down at the phone and paused, staring at the ask. Then, quickly, he hit **answer** . “No, thank you,” he said aloud as he typed, then hit **post**. 

“Did you really just post that?” Andrew asked, snatching his phone back. He thumbed his phone for a second, then laughed and it was -

“You even put the A at the end. Fuck, you pay attention.”

Neil leaned back into the couch and laced his finger over his stomach, closing his eyes. “It’s hard not to.”

* * *

 

Andrew didn’t see him again until Thursday, when Neil texted saying Matt wanted him to come over.

‘Why the fuck?’

_‘I have no idea.’_

Andrew showed up at the Josten/Boyd residence more than a little curious. Matt opened the door and let Andrew in with an actual _smile_ this time.

“What? What did you do...?” Andrew asked, suspiciously. 

_Am I walking into a fucking raid or something?_

Matt shook his head. “Nothing! Neil just seems to like your company and I thought we could all hang out and be best buds, you know?”

Andrew raised a brow at him and slowly made his way to the couch. He scooped Sir up along the way and gave her a cuddle as he regarded Matt - who was currently on his heels, sitting beside him when Andrew sunk into the cushions. 

“So, about Dan-”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ - I knew it was _something_. You haven’t called her?”

Matt glanced at Neil, who was curled in one of the armchairs. Neil threw his hands up. “How many times do I have to tell you. Just fucking call her, Matt. I don’t care anymore. Seriously. I mean,” he shrugged and gestured, “if you could like. Not say, _‘oh hey, I’m sitting next to Nathaniel’,_ that’d be great.”

Matt looked back to Andrew, warm brown eyes wide and wild. “Okay, but like - I need you to tell me about her. What’s she like, for real? Is she like, real as fuck? Or does she like to be pampered?! What’s her favorite song? Food? If I were to take her to dinner, where should we go?”

_Fuck me, what have I done -_

Andrew stared blankly at Matt for a second, before shaking his head. _Okay._ “Dan is a lion,” he started. “If she sniffs any sort of weakness from you, she’ll drop you so fucking quick, it’ll give you whiplash. She doesn’t need someone to take care of her - she does that herself. And,” he shrugged, “She’ll kick you in the balls literally and figuratively, if you treat her as anything less than an equal.”

Matt’s stare grew longer, eyes widened further. Andrew half expected him to crumple up her number right then and say never-fucking-mind. Instead, he pulled her number out of his pocket and stared at it. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Fuck, I’m going to do it. I’m going to call her.” His brows quickly gathered and he shook now, “Maybe tomorrow. Not right now - not tonight. Should I tonight? No, no not tonight,” he shook his head and looked so pained it was comical. “It’s Thursday night. She has to work in the morning. Respect the grind-” he looked up at Neil and Andrew with a firm nod. “I’ll call her tomorrow.” 

He said this all to himself. Muttering to the slip of Dan’s number. 

Andrew dragged his eyes to look at Neil, just to find him shaking his head fondly. “Atta boy, Matty,” he said. “Give it a day, plan what you’re going to say so you don’t sound like a creep.”

“Right, right,” Matt murmured, nodding to himself and slipping the paper back into his pocket. “Someone go get food. I’m going to go…hang out in my room for a bit.” Andrew rolled his eyes and stood up.

“I’ll go. What do you want?”

 _This is ridiculous_. 

Andrew was halfway back from the restaurant, bags of Greek food making his stomach rumble, when he realized he forgot his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered, patting his pockets. _Must’ve left it on the table in the apartment._

He was able to get by the security guard and punch in the code he’s memorized these past few days. When he got to the door, he heard laughter coming from inside. Squinting slowly, he kicked the door a few times to get someone to open it. 

Neil’s face appeared in the doorway - smiling widely and looking _flushed_

~~_Happy._ **** ~~

“What did you do...?” Andrew asked. 

Neil rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip. Andrew stared at it, resisting the urge to pull it out with his thumb. _Andrew._ He cleared his throat and looked away, walking past Neil and heading towards the kitchen to set the bags down on the counter. His phone was there in the living room, sitting on the table, Matt stationed innocently near it. 

“What did you do?” He asked again. 

“Nothing!” Matt said, holding up his hands. Andrew narrowed his eyes as he dropped the bags onto Matt’s lap abruptly in favor of picking up his phone. Notifications vibrated in his hand and they lit up his screen - all from the website. That’s when he knew. He unlocked his phone and looked at the RR page. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” They’d answered a bunch of asks. As Andrew. “How did you even get into it-”

Neil shrugged just as innocently as Matt had, _sweet_ smile on his lips as he grabbed the bags from Matt’s lap. 

_What -_

He squinted back down at his phone and read aloud, “My favorite movie is Clueless, because that’s what I am?” _Idiots -_ “So original,” Andrew said. Matt and Neil dissolved into fits of laughter. Andrew kept scrolling.

He read one asking how he was feeling today. _‘_ _Extra emo with a side of goth. I painted my nails extra black today to match my black soul_ _.’_

His lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. “Okay, that one is actually pretty funny.”

“That was mine!” Neil shouted through his laughter. “I told you that shit was funny!” he said to Matt, who just nodded. Andrew sighed and kept scrolling.

“Okay, what the fuck. Who put this fucking kissy emoji under Seth’s post?” No one fessed up and Andrew rolled his eyes. “Great, now people will think I’m fucking Seth. You two are children... Eat your god damned food. Don’t forget your bibs.”

* * *

 

Saturday, Andrew showed up at the apartment with Perogies after Neil made the mistake of mentioning that he’d never had them. 

“You lived in Germany?! What the fuck?!”

Neil just shrugged. “We ate what we didn’t have to cook and what didn’t give off a strong smell.”

Andrew had just shaken his head. Neil was not surprised in the least when he arrived with enough perogies to feed a small army.

They sat on the floor, eating at the coffee table while Matt lounged on the couch, eating and looking at his laptop. Sir was curled comfortably in Neil’s lap, and he gave Andrew a smug _grin_ when he caught him looking at her longingly. 

He didn’t know when everything started to... Shift. Andrew had been here nearly every day now and a weight had lifted off his shoulders. Neil didn't... he didn’t understand and he also didn’t think he _wanted_ to understand. Right now, he felt good and things didn’t feel as constricting and dark and 

_And and and -_

“HOLY SHIT.”

Neil and Andrew both startled. Sir glanced up in annoyance, then continued her nap with a deep groan/sigh. “What the fuck, Matt?” Neil asked, quickly. “What is it?”

Matt tore his eyes away from the screen and turned it around to show the two of them. It was the still of Dan Wild’s team interview. They’d watched Seth’s last night - Andrew fuming over the state of his cat’s coat. 

“Neil, I know you said you don’t swing... But... Just... Is she not the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever seen...? I mean-” he was breathless - literally. Matt’s chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to chase it, “ _Fuck -_ God,” he shook his head and turned the screen back towards himself. “I don’t even want to press play... my palms are sweating and _shit_.”

Neil turned to grin at Andrew, to share a laugh with him. Instead, he found Andrew surveying him intently. He furrowed his brows, asking a silent _‘what?’_

Andrew dragged his eyes back to Matt and the look all but disappeared. “Have you not called her yet? I gave you her number days ago. You scared?” He meant it mockingly, Neil knew. 

Matt did not take it as such.

“Fuck yeah I’m scared! Fucking look at her! She’s a fucking goddess, a queen, she’s radiant and -” he sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m gonna watch it,” he said, like he was talking about jumping off of a cliff.

Almost like he didn’t want to talk himself out of it, he quickly pressed play and Neil decided he wanted to see too - so, he stood and sat next to him so he could get a better angle. Andrew slowly rose and moved around to the back of the couch to watch over his shoulder. 

Dan Wilds popped up on the screen, white teeth shining behind red lips. Matt sighed, Andrew scoffed. Thy watched in silence. 

That is. 

Until Renee asked who Dan’s celebrity crush was. 

_‘Matt Boyd…’_

_What the_ **_fuck_ ** _?!_

Neil’s jaw dropped and then he shuffled backwards as Matt practically threw the laptop to the other end of the couch. He screamed. Literally _screamed_ , “OH MY GOD. NEIL. NEIL DID YOU HEAR THAT. SHE SAID MY FUCKING NAME -” He pointed to himself, “OH MY GOD, OH MY _FUCKING_ GOD-”

Neil looked back to see Andrew with his hands over his ears. “Jesus Christ, _Lloyd_! Calm the fuck down! I’m going to call and tell her you’re insane if you don’t stop!”

Matt froze and took a few deep breaths. “Right, right. Sorry. I just…wasn’t expecting that. Okay. We’re okay.” He patted his chest, then sat back down on the couch and pulled his laptop back into his lap. With a last deep breath, he nodded as if he were psyching himself up to continue, then pressed play. 

And listened to Dan Wilds sing his praises with a hand over his mouth and knee shaking. She went from everything to his exy playing, to his hair. Neil watched him reach a hand up and try to smooth his locs like Dan could see them through the computer. Once the interview was over, he shut the lid to his laptop and inhaled a quick, deep breath. 

“Are you going to finally fucking call her now?” Andrew asked, coming around to sit next to Neil.

“Bro,” Matt whispered. “ _Bro-_ ” he shook his head. “I don’t even fucking know... I’m almost more scared now that I know she sees me that way. What if I’m a giant disappointment?” His voice went low and he looked quickly to his watch. “I have to head to the stadium. Work, grind, you know-” He snapped his laptop shut and set it on the coffee table. His head was nodding slightly as he wiped his undoubtedly sweaty palms on his pants. “Neil,” he turned towards him just barely, eyes clearly elsewhere or _inwards_. “I’ll wait for you after the game?”

 Neil nodded and ten minutes later Matt was gone, still muttering to himself on the way out the door, and they were alone.

_Alone._

“So?” Neil asked, turning his attention back to Andrew. 

_I want to know._

“So what?” Andrew raised a brow. 

“What was that look for earlier? When Matt was showing me the picture of Dan?”

He shrugged, “It’s none of my business.”

Neil laughed. _What a joke._ “When has that ever stopped you?” And saw the _‘touché’_ that passed over Andrew’s face as he regarded him. 

Andrew then shifted so he was facing him on the couch. “I was just wondering about what Matt said. That you don’t swing.”

_Oh?_

“Oh,” Neil heard himself say. Very suddenly, he felt uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure why. He’d had no issue telling Matt this... Chewing on the inside of his lip, he tried to look casual and shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, yeah. I’ve just...” he shook his head, “Never really been attracted to people that way. I don’t know, I’ve never thought very hard about it.”

“So you’re asexual?”

_I dont - Huh..._

Neil shrugged. “I guess?” He said, eyes slightly squinting. “I mean, I’ve kissed girls when my mom wasn’t looking. She saw anyway, nearly ripped the hair out of my head pulling me away,” he wet his lips. They were suddenly very dry. “Once,” _Why am I still talking?_ “In Arizona, just to see what the fuss was about?” He shook his head and found himself looking around the room. That last time was right before he’d gotten to Phoenix and he could feel his the ghost of his mother’s hands tugging him away... By then, he’d decided that it just wasn’t for him.

And it was probably for the best. 

_Don’t get attached._

There was a stretch of quiet that lasted about ten seconds. Andrew was still watching him intently and Neil was keen on changing the subject until Andrew asked, “Have you ever researched any of this?” When Neil looked at him, his eyes were honest - open. “There’s a whole spectrum out there, you know. It might help you figure things out or shed some light on it, if you’re curious. I mean,” he shrugged. “If you’re good in the place you're now in with it, then that’s that - you’re good. Just saying, if you ever want to learn more... a google search is helpful.”

_Oh..._

Neil raised his eyes to meet Andrew’s and felt _Whatever,_ “What about you? Do you... swing?” he asked. He didn’t know why he held his breath for the answer.

Andrew gave him a small grin. “Decidedly gay. But,” He pressed his lips together for a short moment. Neil watched the silver of his lip ring tilt slightly to the right. “It was hard for me to accept for a long time. It helps to research.”

Neil just nodded. 

“So,” Andrew murmured, when the silence stretched on. “Tomorrow is the pride parade. Are you going?”

Neil’s scoff was the only thing that snapped himself out of... _Whatever, whatever, whatever._ “Are you kidding? All those fucking people? Sounds miserable,” He rolled his eyes and found the lightheartedness in this again. 

_Lightheartedness. In Andrew. In the man that uprooted what was becoming normal and was real and true and here and helping -_

He continued, “Matt’s been trying to get me to go. He’s in the parade this year with a few other players.”

“Why don’t you come to Allison’s?” Andrew offered. “The parade passes right by her building in Greenwich. We can watch together from the roof. Just the two of us.”

Neil looked at him and bit his lip, contemplating... He didn’t even know what. 

What he did know, was that he wanted to sit on the roof with Andrew again. 

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Andrew was nervous. 

He didn’t know why. 

The parade started at 12 and Neil was due over any second. He had no idea if this was something Neil was actually comfortable with, though. If he’d been uncomfortable discussing his sexuality...

_I shouldn’t have even asked._

_It’s none of my business._

But he had. And now, they were here. 

He was excited though, to be honest - for the parade. He didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be down in the action. The thought of such dense crowds, of people pushing close and _contact_ was enough to make him wholly grateful of that rooftop terrace. Nonetheless, he was festive enough. He’d put on a comfortable pair of sweats and his black tank top with rainbow stripes across the chest for the occasion. He was just putting food into a basket to carry to the roof, when he buzzed Neil up. He opened the door for him and turned for Neil to follow into the kitchen. Grabbing the basket, Neil grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge like he was familiar with the place ~~_he was_ ~~ __ and followed to the roof. 

“It was insane getting here. So many fucking people everywhere,” Neil said as they climbed the stairs. 

Andrew just nodded, “A lot of people are excited to celebrate. It’s nice to be surrounded by people who are like you. A community.”

_‘It’s nice to be surrounded by people who are like you.’_

_Their eyes matched -_

Neil nodded. “I can see that.”

They made their way up and sat at the table near the edge of the roof. Andrew started unpacking the basket and Neil laughed.

“Hotdogs,” he said, and Andrew felt his lips twitch.

“Hotdogs,” he confirmed.

He finished unpacking and sat, grabbing a hotdog and taking a bite. “I was right you know. New York really does have really good hotdogs.”

Neil laughed, “I suppose they do.”

Neil picked at his bun, and Andrew watched him set the tiny pieces of bread aside. Andrew could practically see something roiling behind his eyes, but Andrew didn’t know if he was prepared to break the bubble they were slowly creating _again_. So, he kept the mood up, or tried to. “What?” he asked. “Are you going to disappoint me by telling me you’re not a hotdog fan?”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of Neil’s full lips, “No,” he shook his head. “I’m just…let’s play a game.”

Andrew cocked his head, “A game?”

“Yeah... Like, okay.” Neil sat up and set his hotdog down. “I’ll ask you a question and in return, you ask me one. We can pass if we don’t want to answer, but if we _do,_ we have to answer truthfully.”

_Alright. Yes._

“Okay,” Andrew thought he was either going to love this game or hate it. 

_Can’t wait to find out._

“So...” Neil began, steeling himself for _something._ He took a deep breath, “you’re gay,” Andrew nodded and waited for - “When did you know?”

_Oh -_

Andrew set his own hotdog down and raised his eyes to look hard at Neil. He didn’t know where this was coming from, but... Andrew shrugged. “I mean,” His lips pursed. “When I was ten, I think. Jeremy Sumpter from Peter Pan really held my attention for longer than was probably strictly necessary,” His lips slightly curved, then twitched. “I didn’t really know why...” he stopped then. His _part_ smile paused, then fell slowly as he leaned back into his chair and squinted out at the tops of other buildings. _Do I dare...?_ He didn’t want to make Neil uncomfortable or for things to get twisted... But, “When I was thirteen,” He started slowly, “I met a boy at the Grand Canyon.”

Neil froze. Andrew felt it, he _knew_ it was going to happen, but when Andrew met his eyes, he had to continue. “I should have known then. I should’ve known that no thirteen year old would’ve waxed poetic about the blue of another boy’s eyes without it meaning _something_ . But,” he wanted to look away, he wanted to _retreat_. Bee buzzed and he briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “But, it took going to juvie and talking to therapists to accept it. It’s hard when you’ve been abused by men, to realize you’re attracted to men.”

Neil, he didn’t look away or say anything. His lips didn’t twitch, there wasn’t disgust in his face or - “Your turn,” he murmured, very quietly. 

The beginning music, the people, the _energy_ from the crowd below nearly drowned it out, but Andrew heard.

~~_Because of this bubble_ .   ~~

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Andrew heard himself ask. He watched Neil swallow. 

“No,” He replied. “I’m just surprised I guess...” he hesitated. “Is that why...?”

_No -_

“No,” Andrew replied quickly. “ _No._ ” his voice was firmer, this time. “Not at all. This isn’t-” he clenched his jaw and sighed, shaking his head. “This isn’t _that_ . I was a _kid_ . This?” he motioned between them and felt his thumb crack his pinky and the release was - “This is a promise I made to you and one I wanted to _keep_. This isn’t a stalker crush I’ve been harboring for the past thirteen fucking years -” Andrew dropped his hands to his lap and shook his head more. “No.”

Neil studied him for a long moment, but he just nodded slowly. “Okay.” And the way he said it, it felt final, it felt - 

Andrew looked to his watch. “The parade is starting. Come on.”

They both stood and Andrew reached into the bottom of the picnic basket. Folded there, were two flags - one a rainbow flag, and the other black, gray, white and purple. 

Neil raised a brow when Andrew went to hand one to him. “It’s the asexual pride flag,” he explained and Neil? He slowly took it in both hands and let it unfurl. He regarded it with furrowed brows and _something_ written across his face. 

Andrew wondered, for a moment, if it was the wrong thing to do, but Neil raised his eyes and said, “Thank you.” 

Andrew? He inhaled a quick breath and nodded with small motions. Setting his own flag on the table, he took Neils from his hands and shook it out to release wrinkles as he wrapped it around Neil’s shoulders. 

“You are who you are,” Andrew said with a shrug. “You should be proud of it.”

He picked up his own again and wrapped the rainbow flag around his shoulders, before making his way to the edge of the roof where the parade was to pass by. Andrew leaned over the edge and after a moment, felt Neil come up beside him. He leaned almost against Andrew, letting him hold his weight - just for a moment and Andrew felt him relax, _just for a moment_. 

They both looked down over the edge, watching people and floats and listening to the noise of the crowd. 

_It was -_

Andrew...

He knew what was happening here. He knew it and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

He mentally cursed Bee for making him emotionally stable enough to recognize this tight feeling his chest - one, if he was being completely honest, he didn’t think he’d felt before...

They watched in silence. Pointing out things to each other every once in a while - laughing at some of the outlandish costumes. 

This felt... _nice._

Wrapped in their flags and standing shoulder to shoulder. 

They stayed on the roof all day. Even when the parade came to a close. 

Even when the sun started to fall and evening rose. 

They stayed on the roof and talked, and ate, and looked up ridiculous vines on Andrew’s laptop. 

Renee’s interview had been posted, so they watched that together, too. 

“I liked her interview,” Neil said when it ended, small smile on his lips. “All the things she said about you being loyal and stuff.”

“Renee likes to see the best in everyone,” Andrew said, trying to brush it off. 

Neil noticed. He rolled his eyes and smirked. “I think she’s right though.” He turned and looked to Andrew’s profile. Andrew tried to keep his eyes glued on the screen, but he couldn’t help it.

_Couldn’t help this._

Neil continued, didn’t flinch away. A small smile curled, “I think you’re loyal,” he said honestly. “And trustworthy. It’s why I decided to give you a chance and not throw your ass off this roof the first time I came over here.”

Andrew laughed. It felt so _good._ “You could try. I’d take you with me.”

They were quiet for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was - 

Andrew felt Neil shiver beside him in the cooling night air, so he picked up their discarded flags from the table in front of them. Leaning, he wrapped Neil’s around his shoulders once again and then did the same with his own. He sat back down next to Neil on the couch, still not realizing his actions or the way he didn’t have to do things like that for Neil. He was a grown adult, someone that - 

“I did some research, like you said.” Neil started, stretching his feet onto the table like they had back at Matt’s apartment a few days ago. “About different sexualities.”

“Oh yeah?” Andrew asked, ignoring how his heart beat just a bit faster - how Bee began to _buzz_. “Find anything interesting?”

Neil chewed on the inside of his lip like he always did. Andrew watched the indent his teeth made and forced himself to look back towards Neil’s eyes. 

“I think...” He let go of his lip and nodded to whatever was inside his head. “I think I might be demisexual. I don’t really know because,” he shrugged, “I’ve never really trusted someone enough to know. But, I think maybe I could be...” he nodded. 

Andrew’s eyes squinted slightly, trying to recall. “That’s where... You have to have an emotional connection with someone in order to have any sort of sexual feelings, right?” Andrew asked. 

Neil nodded. 

Andrew took a deep breath and toyed with his lip ring with his teeth. He moved his hands to the couch to aid in pushing himself up a little straighter. He didn’t know _why_. 

“I’m glad you did some research,” he finally said, just as a breeze passed by and his phone buzzed in his pocket. He furrowed his brows and used it as a distraction from _whatever_ lingered in the air even after it brushed by them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and saw a message from a blocked number. 

_‘7’_

_Fucking again?_

Andrew put it back in his pocket and committed to promptly forgetting about it. He got this type of shit all the fucking time. 

_Anyway -_

“Me, too,” Neil suddenly said. And then, Andrew very purposely did not move - not an inch, not a muscle; not when he felt Neil’s hands drop to the couch - and not when he felt Neil’s pinky very tentatively wrap around his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roller coaster ride.. Fuck. We hope this makes sense. We hope we got the emotions down and you all understand why we're going the way we're going. This was a really hard one. Both to write, rewrite, edit, read over, etc. We hope you loved it. Seriously omfg. Okay.  
> Thank you all so so SO much for the love and support and patience. It means the world to us and I know we say this every time, but we mean it. Seriously. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Let us know how you feel because... WOW.  
> Thank you all again!  
> Check back on our page this week for perhaps some art??? Bloodydamnit is dying to fucking paint some pinky scenes so we'll see how much she (I) get done. lololol no promises but still.  
> Okay shutting up now. Goodnight!


	21. Audio Notes #5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Message from the creators:  
> Listen up. This one is a monster and in order for us to get this to you tonight, we've had to split it. Because truly, this is just... massive. But yes, this is an audio notes. There's no way we're going to get up the transcript tonight, but definitely tomorrow. Just look out for that in our usual places ( [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) ) and this note will be updated then.  
> FINALLY THOUGH, y'all that are interacting have something to sink your teeth into. Just keep in mind, anything BUT WHAT'S IN RECORD ON AND OFF, YOU DO. NOT. KNOW. Again, refer to the transcripts when they're posted if you're interacting!  
> With that being said, there is something really fucking important you all need to know.
> 
> We KNOW our Andrew is different from canon. And you all need to know that too. There are somethings Andrew does, the way he acts, that is most certainly different. BUT. We had to raise the hypothetical, what would happen if Andrew was 1 - raised by Bee, 2- never put on mind-altering medication, 3 - never attacked by drake in college, 4 - no. fucking. proust, and 5- considerably older. You MUST KEEP THIS IN MIND MOVING FORWARD. We tried to make this as realistic and still andrew as possible. But, his head is a lot steadier, his reasoning a lot firmer, and his thoughts more vocal purely because Andrew is, for lack of a better way of saying it... better in the sense that mentally, he's more stable. Please, please, please, keep that in mind and understand that we have purpose to what we're doing. Okay? Okay. 
> 
> CW:  
> Panic attacks  
> Canon typical intensity  
> Canon, bad characters (avoiding spoilers)
> 
> Alright. Without further ado, keep updated on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for updates... because oh child... 
> 
> And, welcome back Andrew :)
> 
> \-------------------

Neil woke up with scratchy eyes. 

He opened them slowly and tried not to rub at them; blinked a few times and looked around, only to find Andrew lying a scant few feet away. 

They’d spent hours on the roof talking. Everything felt _comfortable_ and _natural_ and like it had been all those years ago. When the moon was high in the sky and the last dregs of paraders and party go-ers were starting to either pack in for the night or head out, their conversation had somehow gotten around to a movie called Howl’s Moving Castle. Well, not _somehow_ . Neil took a turn in their game and asked a risky question he maybe shouldn’t have upon second thought: what was he thinking when he pulled Neil away, that day at the Grand Canyon? Andrew had answered, _‘Nothing but panic at seeing Drake with you. And then, I saw your eyes.’_

Neil was taken aback. He remembered feeling his brows pull together and something similar tug at the rest of his face as he asked what _in the fuck_ did that mean? Like, Neil knew how his eyes looked. He knew they were his father’s icy blue, because he wasn’t stupid and they worked well enough for him to see in a fucking mirror. But typically, he covered them up and only took his contacts out long enough for him to sleep ~~_except for tonight, apparently_ ~~ ~~.~~ The reason why he hadn’t worn them that day at the Grand Canyon, was because he’d run out of them while traveling - which was part of his mothers errand.

_‘They reminded me of Howl, from Howl's Moving Castle.’_

Neil had no idea who that was, what that was, or what it meant. Matt had tried his best in bringing Neil up to date on most classics he’d missed out on as a child, but apparently he’d missed one so outrageous, that Andrew stood soberly - aghast and appalled and overall, utterly disappointed ~~_in Matt_ .  ~~

_‘Come on. I can’t let this tragedy stand,’_ he’d mumbled, amongst other things like _‘Boyd made you watch fuckin’_ ~~_Friends_ ~~ _, but forgets to educate you on-’_ Neil tuned out the rest in favor of watching how something so small rialed Andrew up so much. 

Neil followed him into what Andrew said was Allison’s room, where his laptop was already open on the bed where he’d plugged it in once it started to die on them. Then, through some weird bit of internet magic Neil didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to follow, Andrew pulled up a cartoon and settled on the bed. Neil had climbed up beside him, ready to sink into this _unbelievably_ comfortable mattress, when Andrew froze. 

 _‘Is this okay? We can go into the living room,’_ Andrew asked before Neil even had the chance to comprehend why. 

Neil shook his head, because why wouldn’t it be okay? They’d been sitting next to each other all night - all day, really. What was the issue?

Hopefully none. Because Andrew relaxed, so Neil finally kicked off his shoes, sat on that giant bed, and was not _unpleasantly_ forced to sit closer to Andrew in order to see the movie on the small screen ~~_which was a shame, in it’s own way. The animation was... it was beautiful and Neil was captivated._ ~~

Howl turned out to be a very dramatic wizard with giant blue eyes and black hair. 

Neil didn’t see the resemblance, not in himself. No. Not even when Howl came out of the bathroom in a panic over his very _ginger_ hair. 

_Mine’s auburn. No resemblance. So._

What he did see was that even despite the discrepancies of eye and hair color, he was not Howl at all. No. But - 

_Anyway._

They watched the movie on that giant bed and talked a bit more - or tried to. Andrew was having none of it during his movie - and now, here Neil was. Awake, with itchy eyes and the realization he’d fallen asleep with his contacts in. He started to take them out before he comprehended what he was doing. 

With one dry contact stuck to his finger, he stared down at it in the city-night darkness. _‘What does it matter?’_ he thought to himself, _‘Andrew knows. You’re not hiding anything from him with these contacts.’_

The pair ended up wrapped in a tissue on the bedside table and Neil blissfully rubbed his irritated eyes with a long, _tired_ , sigh. 

Once he’d forced himself to drop his hands, he looked over his shoulder at Andrew. The laptop between them was long since dead, but there were a pair of contemporary sconces on the wall above the bed that set a soft glow about the room. It mingled and danced in the ever emanating light from the city beyond the gauzy drawn curtains and warm colors illuminated Andrew sprawled on the bed beside him. He was on his back, one arm thrown above his head and the other on his stomach. His shirt had ridden up a bit, above the low waist of his sweats, and  showing off a sliver of Andrew’s skin and a hint of muscle that - Neil had the odd temptation to throw a blanket over him so no one could see. 

Tearing his eyes away, they trailed up to Andrew’s face where he slept as calmly as people like _them_ could. His glasses were askew and Neil was moving before he really thought against it. 

Reaching his hands out, he slowly leaned forward and went to take them off his face so he could sleep more comfortably ~~_he didn’t fucking know why_ ~~ ~~.~~ As he moved he studied Andrew’s face - slack with sleep, but eyes restless behind his lids. Idly, Neil wondered what he dreamed of. Was it a good dream? Or one of the many nightmares Neil _knew_ must’ve plagued his sleep just as much as his own. Tearing his eyes away from Andrew’s, he looked down at his lips. They were chapped. 

_Can you use chapstick with lip rings?_

His fingers were mere centimeters away from his glasses, body leaned faintly over him. But, it must’ve been his weight on the bed, his racing heart, or the proximity alone - because no matter how stealthy Neil tried to be, it did not work. 

Andrew grabbed his wrist so suddenly, Neil let out a gasp, his eyes going wide. He watched as Andrew’s hazel eyes flicked open and his hand tightened around Neil’s wrist for half a second. Then, his brows furrowed, as if confused, and lips parted like he wanted to say something. Neil watched his tongue dart out and wet them. 

“Am I dreaming?” Andrew asked, voice sleep rough and -

Neil stayed frozen, stayed still. He willed his heart to slow in his chest, but it wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t do a thing, couldn’t even stop the smile that slowly bloomed on his face. 

Andrew’s brows furrowed even further, squinting up at Neil. “ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled, “Your eyes are blue-” then promptly shoved his wrist away and rolled over. 

Neil was quite certain he’d fallen back asleep immediately. His shoulder rose and fell deeply with a _contented_ sigh. Something about it felt out of place with this man beside him, but Neil had a feeling he hadn’t slept like this in... well. Likely, a very long time; knowing what he did of his own experience. 

He watched Andrew’s back for another second, chewing on the inside of his lip and debating his next move. 

_I should go._

He should. He should get up now, leave a note for Andrew and go home. 

 _I don’t want to_.

~~_I don’t know why._ ~~

Neil lowered himself back into the comfortable down of Allison Reynolds’ bed and settled himself a few feet away from Andrew. 

~~_If I reach over, my fingers could probably touch his back-_ ~~

_Nathaniel. Stop this. Now._

_Matt’s probably worried._

His phone on the counter flashed behind his eyes. Matt could wait. It was fine. 

_This is fine._

~~_Everything's fine._ ~~

Neil fluffed a pillow so it was more comfortable and buried his face in it. 

~~_You’ll hear about this in the morning, Nathaniel._ ~~

~~_You’re going to sleep in the same bed as this man? This man that put you through so much and -_ ~~

_Shut up._

_Yes._

Neil closed his eyes and fell promptly asleep.

* * *

 

Sunlight streamed through Allison’s giant windows and directly onto Andrew’s face. He could see it, the red behind his lids and felt the warmth on his skin. It was nice, in that weird way that ordinary things were. 

_Is this ordinary?_

Andrew couldn’t remember falling asleep. He was comfortable in that way only a good night's sleep could deliver - the kind of comfort where you don’t want to move and everything feels _soft_ and _okay_ and _safe_ and _right._

Which was why it was _wrong._

He sat up quickly and looked around, trying to get his bearings because Andrew Minyard did _not_ have good night sleeps. Looking down at himself, he was still fully clothed and all the blankets were still stuck beneath his body. Turning his head, he looked beside him on the bed and found signs of someone having slept there. 

No one was, now. 

Andrew stood slowly and made his way out of the room. Was Neil still here?

_Jesus._

He’d let himself fall asleep in the same bed as him - _Neil_ let them fall asleep in the same bed. 

He padded his way past the living room, into the kitchen. There was a note stuck on the coffee machine, folded in half with an ‘A’ on the front. He opened it up and read the messy writing:

_‘Went home before Matt sent the police to find me. Didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for last night. You were right. It’s nice to be with someone who understands. - Neil’_

Andrew read that note five times. He ran a finger over the name, put it in his bag where it wouldn’t get messed up, and he wouldn’t lose it. Then, he sat down on the couch.

And thought about how _fucking_ pathetic this was. 

_Why?_

What the _fuck_ was it about Neil that made him act this way? That made him _feel_ this way? 

Andrew was no _‘slut’_ , but he’d had his fair share of hookups in the past, and none of them made him act or _whatever_ this way. None of them made him feel like waking up in the same bed, fully clothed, on top of the blankets was some sort of scandal. 

Not that he would’ve _slept_ in a bed with any of them anyway. 

They’d shared something _profound_ in Arizona. He knew that. What he _didn’t_ know, was how it was carrying over to adulthood - when they’d both grown up and lived very different lives and, in all reality, were probably in very real danger. 

_It doesn’t matter._

Not even a little - not when Andrew saw him again. With his tan skin, and those _stupid fucking freckles_ and _ridiculous blue eyes -_

He sat up straight. 

Did he see Neil’s eyes...? Or was that a dream?

His mind made a quick swerve left. 

_Am I pushing Neil?_

He didn’t think he was. Honestly, he didn’t even know what was really going on himself. Andrew leaned forward on the couch and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t know how to navigate this _not this_ . It’s not that he had any expectations of Neil. Of course he fucking didn’t. But, he had expectations of _himself_ , and they included not pushing something that he couldn’t even really wrap his head around. 

 _I like him. I like him and I don’t know what that means, except I don’t want to not be around him. I don’t want to leave here and never see him again - I don’t want this terrible, awful_ **_,_ ** ~~_amazing_ ~~ _fucking feeling in my chest to die._

 _This wasn’t part of the plan._ ~~_Was there a plan?_ ~~ _I was supposed to come here and help, and leave, and everyone was_ **_supposed_ ** _to be better off, but that’s not what I’ve done and -_

Andrew stood, pulled out his phone, and called Bee. She’d started buzzing and he couldn’t take that _buzz, buzz, buzz._ He’d rather hear her voice, rather hear her help him through this, tell him he’s being silly and he just needs to calm down and think _rationally_. 

He needed her to talk him down off whatever this _not fucking this_ was. He just wished he had King to help him too. 

-

By Monday night, Andrew was pacing. He was too in his head with all the _possibilities_ and _probabilities_ and _impossibilities_.

_I need to get out._

He left the apartment and pulled out his phone. It was blank. Neil hadn’t contacted him all day. That was _fine_ , though. Andrew would’ve welcomed a call, of course, but he wasn’t going to sit and _pine_ and get annoyed because Neil had a life that didn’t involve Andrew in it. 

So, he left and he walked aimlessly. He didn’t really know where he was going or what his destination was, but he’d spent the better part of four years in this city - canvasing it and learning all the parts most people didn’t know. His feet, though mindless, carried him _maybe_ onto the subway, and _maybe_ into a coffee shop. They _may_ have ended up with him at Neil’s apartment building, nodding to the security guard who recognized him, and punching in the number he’d memorized the moment he’d seen it. 

He stopped when the doors to the elevator opened and realized -

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Panic set in.

_Oh god -_

But, he was here now. He was here and slowly being carried up to _Neil’s_ floor and he needed an excuse, needed one fast. He supposed he could just say he was in the neighborhood - 

_Yeah, really fucking smooth, you gay fucking disaster._

Fuck it. 

He turned from the elevator and decided to just knock on the fucking door, see if Neil (and he supposed _Lloyd)_ wanted to get dinner. Andrew took a deep breath and steeled himself for another stalker comment, before walking towards the door

And completely froze in place. 

On the door was a piece of paper. It was taped on all four corners and scrawled in red marker, a giant number ‘ _6_ ’.  

There was a set of red lips in one corner, like someone had kissed it and - 

Andrew immediately ripped it off the door and banged as hard as he could. 

When there was no answer, his heart skipped a beat and he felt like he was falling as Bee began to _buzz_ behind his ear. Quickly, he pulled out his phone to call Neil and as soon as the main screen opened, he remembered the text from the night before:

_‘7’_

_What the fuck is this...?_

He pressed Neil’s name and put the phone to his ear. 

_Pick up, pick up, pick up._

_‘Yes?’_

Andrew couldn’t breathe, though he managed to choke out, “Where are you?” He was breathless, panting, nothing was getting to him. Why did this feel so wrong? What was the big deal? It could mean nothing, a practical joke, a-

_‘I’m at work, stalker. Miss me already?’_

~~_Yes_ ~~

“No. I just swung by the apartment and there was - a... thing here. Can I come to the stadium?” Andrew needed to see him. He didn’t know what was going on, but he needed to have eyes on Neil, needed to make sure he was okay. Andrew heard the crack of his pinky before he felt it and shut his eyes tight as he clutched the phone tighter. 

_I made a promise-_

_‘Sure, I guess? I’m just cleaning up now. Might be a minute before I’m done.’_

_Okay._

“That’s fine. I’ll be there soon.”

Andrew hung up without saying anything else, because if he did, he’d fucking panic and it felt like there was no room for it. Again, he didn’t know what this was, if it were serious, or what. 

_Stop rialing yourself up. Breathe. You’re fine. It’s okay._

_Right._

People liked to fuck with Andrew. Allison Reynolds had somehow gotten a hold of all his contact info when she wanted him to listen - it didn’t surprise him ~~_not really_~~ that someone else was able to as well. 

_But this?_

A note taped to Neil’s door?

_Stop deluding yourself. This isn’t some practical fucking joke. This is serious._

_This is serious._

Andrew looked down the hall, traveled to the other side and peered out at the small courtyard that sat in the middle of the complex. No one milled about, no movement or anything. He tilted his head up and tried to see through the windows on the other side, but they only reflected the artificial lush greenery in the midst of this concrete jungle. There was _nothing. No one._

His heart pounded against his ribs and he willed it to calm. Swallowing hard, he rolled his neck and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, before he  found any sort of resolve in clamping down on any panic threatening to take over. 

He may have stood there for a few seconds, a minute, or ten. 

Eventually, he left the building and made his way to the stadium. 

* * *

 

Neil’s phone buzzed with a notification right as he was finishing up. He didn’t go double time with cleaning when he’d gotten the call from Andrew. Not at all. He just _happened_ to be finished faster than usual, that’s all - just _happened_ to be ready when Andrew’s text said that he was at the side door... Where he _coincidentally_ **_happened_** to ~~_not_~~ be waiting ** _._**

Neil dropped the last of the garbage at one of the closets for one of the others to dump, and made to head to the door Andrew was about to approach when Matt walked in. 

“Wanna play tonight?” he asked. They hadn’t played in a while and to be completely honest, Neil could use it. Lately, everything had become this confusing mess of _feelings_ and Neil hated it. He hated it because he was really starting to _trust_ Andrew now, really starting to _like_ him. And while he was glad, he also still felt a level of unease that set him on edge - like he was betraying his mother and his own well-being by letting himself buy into whatever it was Andrew was selling.

Still.

“Andrew is here. I have to let him in.”

Matt shook his head. “No, you don’t. Get your gear on and let’s play.”

Matt had not bought into any of it.  

“Just let me go let him in,” Neil said, with a laugh that had become way too natural in the past few... months -

~~_Few months?!_ ~~

“-We’ll still play. He can sit and wait. Don’t you want to make him wait?” Neil said conspiratorially, brow wagging playfully. Matt’s eyes narrowed and eventually gave a considering nod just as Neil turned to the door where Andrew was, in fact, waiting. 

When he opened it, he leaned his shoulder against the frame, crossed his arms over his chest and crossed one ankle over the other. 

“Can I help you? Sorry, it’s only staff beyond this point.”

Andrew tried... he tried so hard and Neil could tell - he tried so fucking hard to roll his eyes and stay _totally cool guy Minyard_ , but the twitch at the corners of his lips gave him away. 

“Hmm...” Andrew hummed, hands casually shoved into his too-tight pockets and eyes narrowed behind those ridiculous glasses. “Well, I’m a journalist, see? I’m here to do a story on the janitorial staff of the New York Lynx Stadium, and how they like to harbor runaways who steal memorabilia.”

Neil scoffed, “I _do not_ **_steal_** memorabilia! I... Find it sometimes... And I keep it - but that’s not stealing. That’s simply finders keepers and those rules are rock solid, ask anyone.” He looked over his shoulder at Matt still waiting, pretending to look at his nails and _definitely_ not listening in. “Just don’t ask Matt,” he lowered his voice _playfully_ and - 

_What the hell are you doing, Nathaniel? Drop this. Drop it all -_

“Whatever you say, Rabbit.” Andrew sighed and shrugged a shoulder, then tapped the partially closed door with the toe of his _stupid_ black sneaker, it made Neil happy he could still see smudges from the donuts on the fabric. “You gonna let me in, or are you gonna make me stand out here all night?” Andrew took a step closer, like he expected Neil to move. 

Neil didn’t. He stayed right where he was with a brow raised because? Because Neil felt reckless then. He felt... He smiled and tried to bite his lip to keep it at bay, but it peaked through when he didn’t miss Andrew’s eyes flicking down to his mouth. 

“Are we playing or what?!” Matt groaned and tapped one of the lockers like a child. 

Neil rolled his eyes and finally moved to let Andrew by, shutting the door tight once he was in. 

“Playing?” Andrew asked and Neil nodded. 

“I told you we play sometimes. It’ll only be a quick game, you wanna join?”

_Now you’re inviting him? Letting him further integrate himself into your life?_

**_Un_ ** _Luckily_ Matt and Andrew scoffed at the same time. They arrived back in the locker room where Matt was already pulling his practice gear back on. 

“I don’t play sports,” Andrew’s upper lip curled slightly. “There’s just so much... moving involved,” he shook his head. “I’ll just watch you two idiots pretend to be professionals,” he sent a look towards Matt as he dropped himself onto one of the benches and leaned his back against the lockers. 

Matt’s chin pulled back. “Excuse you, I _am_ a professional,” he said, clearly offended. 

Andrew closed his eyes like he was getting ready to take a nap. “Uh huh. I guess.”

Matt had already gotten out most of Neil’s own practice gear and Neil grabbed one of the pads on the bench beside him, and threw it at Andrew. “Don’t be an ass. Come play. You can be goalie - that way Matt actually has something to defend, instead of just pushing me back. And, with there not being an open goal, I can try and score against an actual person!” He couldn’t hide the excitement bubbling inside of him. It was something akin to hysteria - which, he’d realized, isn’t really all that different _to_ excitement. Funny. He was 25 and only figuring that out now. 

Matt smiled indulgently at him and directed his attention to Andrew. “Come on, Minyard. Get in goal and I promise I won’t be rude to you for at least a day.”

Andrew cracked one eye open and looked at him. Matt sighed. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned. “I don’t even know if it’s possible. But,” he rubbed his forehead and looked back at Andrew. “Two days. I won’t be rude to you for two whole days.”

Andrew didn’t look convinced. He closed his eyes again. 

“Hey,” Neil interrupted and both eyes opened. “Please?”

Something flashed over Andrew’s face. It was there and then gone in less time it took for Neil to see it - _recognize_ it. 

If Andrew noticed the searching look on Neil’s face, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “I don’t like that word.”

In response, Neil gave a miniscule nod and logged that information away in the back of his mind. Instead, he held Andrew’s gaze and tried to beg with his eyes instead. 

Andrew’s brows furrowed just a bit, before he rolled his neck, huffed, “fine,” and stood. “But, if either of you laugh at how terrible I am, I’m knocking both of your heads together to teach you fucks some manners.” He pointed at each of them. 

“Okay,” Neil said quickly, feeling something inside him give a pulse as he nodded quickly. “Okay!” He said quicker, then clapped his hands just as Andrew rolled his eyes. “Right, so,” Neil pointed, choosing to ignore him and Matt’s little smirk. “There’s some extra goalie gear in the back. Glad you wore your sneakers instead of those fuckin’ goth boots. Come on.”

Once Andrew was geared up, Neil led him out to court. 

“How do people walk in this shit? I can hardly move my fucking arms - this is _fucking_ ridiculous. Is this much padding even necessary?” He complained the entire way to court and Neil let him - he didn’t care. No, Neil was excited. 

~~_Hysterical._ ~~

_Excited._

Once they joined Matt on the court, Neil took his position and Andrew slowly made his way to goal, grumbling the entire time. Matt tossed Neil a ball and Neil caught it easily in the net of his racquet, bouncing so much in his place that he nearly knocked the ball back out. 

Somehow managing to keep the ball in its place, Neil pulled on his helmet before either Matt or Andrew could see how _giddy_ ~~_giddy?!_ ~~ he was about this. He felt ridiculous but, well, he couldn’t find anything in him to care. 

Eventually, they were all ready and in **_semi_ ** position. Matt said, “Go!” and Neil was off. He’d played with Matt so many times, he knew his moves - knew his little tells. It still took a shit load to get by him, but he always got there eventually. He threw the ball towards the corner of the goal, where he was _sure_ Andrew couldn’t reach it.

But, he did. Andrew flung his racquet to the side, dove, and managed to block the ball. He threw it back at Matt’s feet. 

_What the -_

Matt didn’t move. He and Neil both stood slack jawed, looking to Andrew in utter and complete,

“I thought you’d never played before?!” Neil asked, ~~loudly~~ accusingly. 

“I played a little in juvie,” Andrew slammed the butt of his racquet on the floor and leaned forward on it’s wide net. “But, talked my way into the creative writing class instead, so it wasn’t for very long.” His nose wrinkled, eyes squinted so much that Neil could see it from behind his helmet, “Again. Moving. No thanks.”

Neil looked slowly to Matt to find Matt already looking back at him. Matt just shook his head and Neil nodded slowly to himself. 

_Fucking of course..._

And moved back into position. 

From then on, Andrew blocked every single goal Neil attempted, except one. 

“How. in. the mother. fuck?!” Matt finally asked, slamming the butt of his own racquet on the court floor. “You fucking rookies just come in here, like you’ve been playing professionally for years?! And making me, _me!_ Feel like I’m not special for being so god damn good at exy. And to be honest,” he wagged his gloved finger between Neil and Andrew. “I don’t like it one bit.”

Neil tried hard not to laugh. 

“Shame,” Andrew said, pulling off his helmet and starting to yank his gloves off. “I’m done. I’m sweating and that alone is more than I can fucking handle.”

Neil sighed and relented. It _was_ getting late, “Fine, I guess. I’m” and he was, “starving anyway. Let’s pick up food and go home. You wanna join?” 

Andrew shrugged, _oh so casual._ “Yeah, sure. Not pizza though. I don’t care how good Boyd and Reynolds claim New York pizza is, if I eat anymore, I’m going to puke.”

“Hey!” Matt called from across the court. He was already halfway to the locker room, “Don’t blaspheme New York pizza! You’ll eat it and you’ll like it!” 

“Two days, Lloyd!” Andrew yelled back. 

Matt waved over his shoulder with a muttered, _‘it’s_ **_boyd_ ** _’_ , before disappearing. 

Neil looked back to Andrew. Andrew’s eyes were already on him. “Pierogies?” Neil asked. 

Andrew just nodded, “Pierogies sound good.”

* * *

 

Andrew had fallen asleep on the couch. 

Neil didn’t join him this time. He went to bed, tossed Andrew a blanket, and since Andrew was already comfortably full and sleepy - he stayed and reluctantly woke up the next morning. Andrew was comfortable here... maybe even more than Allison’s. 

_It’s probably the couch._

Slowly, he came back to himself. Everything was quiet and still. Inside his head, he silently cursed himself for falling asleep _again_ in a compromising place. First, the bed with Neil, now a couch, where he was out in the open and vulnerable and - 

_You didn’t tell him._

“Fuck,” Andrew hissed to himself and slowly stood. Stretching his hands above his head briefly, he made for the bathroom, all the while convincing himself:

1 - that he was a piece of shit, making the same fucking mistakes he had before 

And

2 - he should’ve told Neil his hunch and what he’d found the moment he saw him last night. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” He  groaned again, making his way back to the living room to check the time.

It was 9AM. No one else was awake. Maybe Neil wanted breakfast? Reheated pierogies were really fucking good with _‘hey, I didn’t tell you something last night. But I found a number plastered to your fucking door and -’_

The microwave dinged. He grabbed the plate and two forks, then headed down the hall where he knew Neil’s room was. He hadn’t been in it (there was no reason to) but, he knew his was the first door and Matt’s, the second. 

He practiced what he was going to say as he walked.

_‘Get up idiot, I’m making breakfast.’_

Hm. Maybe too much. _Also, not what you should be_ **_fucking. Saying._ **

_‘Just wanted to see if you’d like some breakfast.’_

Gross. And still not what needed to be said. 

_Just tell him. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe, I just need to be told that I’m fucking -_

Andrew stopped dead. The plate between his fingers surprisingly, didn’t drop and shatter. If anything, he clutched it tighter - because he was in view of Neil’s door now, and what he saw made him immediately nauseous. He could feel the blood completely drain from his face, lips tingly with the loss. 

There. 

Scrawled directly on Neil’s door and taking up half of it, was the number **5** written in red marker. It was scribbled, like someone had drawn over it again and again and again. 

_No-_

Andrew ran. 

He ran the rest of the way to the Neil’s room, dropped the plate and on a small table in the hall, and flung the door open without any preamble. “Neil!”

Neil sat straight up in the bed and Sir let out a loud meow, before jumping off it startled. 

Neil looked at him through squinted eyes. “Andrew...?” He rubbed his face, “What the fuck?”

_He’s not wearing his con-_

“Are you okay?!” He started opening the closet doors, moving aside clothes and _memorabilia_ \- trying to make sure no one was _there_. 

“What the fuck are you doing!? Of course I-” Neil stopped mid sentence. Andrew looked up to find Neil staring at the door he’d left wide open. 

“What the fuck is that...?” He whispered. 

“A message.” Andrew didn't stop. He dropped to his knees to check under the bed. Matt came in just as Andrew straightened and leaned his arms on the bed, still on his knees. 

“What do you think _you’re_ doing in here?! You think you can just hang out in his room?! I don’t think so,” Matt growled. “In the living room! Both of you! Where I can see you!” Andrew glared over his shoulder to find Matt with his hands on his hips, glaring at the two of them. 

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” Neil rolled his eyes. “Look at the fucking door.”

Matt did. “Who drew on it?” He snapped his head towards Andrew. 

“Yes, it was me.” Andrew cracked his pinky and ground his teeth. “My diabolical plan, to draw a _fucking_ number on Neil’s _fucking_ door, then make my way into his room -” _No._ He shook his head quickly and then, “Get the fuck out. Both of you. Go wait for me in the living room.”

_Enough._

“Why? If someone’s in here-” Neil started. 

“Just... fucking go.”

 _You didn’t tell him last night. Now something happened._ ~~_It could’ve been worse_ . ~~

They went, and Andrew let out a gasp of air like he’d been holding it. 

_He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine._

He was _fine_ and it was _okay_ . _Fuck_ . He’s _fine._

Andrew continued sweeping the room, all the while rubbing the bee behind his ear. She was buzzing, burning, scolding him for being _negligent and careless and_

_No. Bee would never._

His fingers ached, nerves shuttered and he wished he had his knives on him (although he didn’t mind using his hands to strangle someone either). He checked the bathroom, behind the shower curtain - even went so far as to canvas Matt’s room, just in case. The hall closets weren’t exempt either and Andrew looked _everywhere._

When he finally came into the living room, he found Matt and Neil sitting on the couch and remaining quiet. Sir was keeping vigil in Neil’s lap, curled up and purring loudly. 

_Because I was careless._

Andrew stood in front of them and very slowly, almost reluctantly, pulled the hastily folded and crumbled piece of paper that had been taped to the door yesterday from his pocket. 

 _So fucking_ **_stupid_ **. 

In the midst of exy and pierogies and banter, he’d failed to mention it and now?

He opened it up and handed it over to Neil. 

Who at first, only gave it a glance, before he shut his eyes tight and worked his jaw. When he opened them again ~~_so blue_ ~~ , he looked up at Andrew as they narrowed and flicked back down to the _message_. “Where did you get this?”

_Buzz_

“When I came here yesterday, while you were at work. It was taped to the door.” _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“And you’re telling us this now?” Matt asked and rather than stand, he shifted closer to Neil - like he could lend him strength. “What the _hell?_ You really tryin’ to get him killed, aren’t you? The fuck is wrong with you?!”

_Don’t fight it. I fucked up._

_I fucked up._

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

He didn’t. He did. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he should’ve mentioned this before he even saw Neil - on the phone. He should’ve assumed it was something dangerous and not some asshole playing a prank. Someone was here. They were in front of _Neil’s_ door, and Andrew allowed himself to get _distracted_ because of what?! Why?!

Neil was quiet. Andrew looked at the top of his head where it was bowed over the paper. _His auburn's starting to show at the roots,_ Andrew noted. _He needs a haircut,_ Andrew noted. _I’m so fucking stupid,_ Andrew also noted. 

Neil finally looked up slowly, his tight fist creasing the corner of the paper. When he met Andrew’s gaze, the fire was back - the anger. 

“This is Lola,” He said quietly. 

All of a sudden, Matt finally stood and whispered, “Fuck.” Then a bit louder, “ _Fuck_ \- She’s the one that worked for your dad, right? The one that killed your mom?”

“The woman with the red hair...” Andrew whispered, realization settling in and what he’d learned in California came rushing back. Neil held his eyes. Blue so icy, Andrew thought it might crack under all that animosity. 

“Yes,” Neil hissed. He pointed a finger to the red kiss mark. _Buzz, buzz, buzz._ “This is her. She knows where I am and I wonder _how_ she knows where I am.” His brows lifted. 

Andrew took an involuntary step back and lifted his hands in surrender. “You can't be serious?” he whispered. “You think-” He scoffed and shook his head as he stared Neil down. “You cannot _honestly_ think I’d be in contact with this person? That I would tell her where you are?!” He was starting to get angry too. Especially when Matt took one big step closer to him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. 

“You little piece of shit. I should’ve known... Should’ve thrown your ass out the minute you got here,” he cocked a hand back, and although it went against every ingrained instinct in Andrew, he was going to take the fucking punch. 

_I deserve this._

Matt’s arm only stopped when neil grabbed onto it. “No,” he said in a voice that sounded stronger than he looked. His eyes met Andrew’s again. “I don’t think you sold me out, but I think there’s a very good chance you’re the reason she’s here. That you’re why she knows where I am.”

Andrew couldn’t argue with him. His hands hung by his sides and he thought, _I didn’t know. I didn’t know Neil -_ He didn’t _know_ if he was the reason either... No one knew he was here except for Reynolds. 

“I don’t know how-”

Neil cut him off, sitting back on the couch with Sir. “It doesn’t matter.” He was terribly calm for the situation and that worried Andrew more than anything. “Matt, let go of him. It won’t help anything now. What _will_ is that we have to figure this shit out...” He dropped the note onto the coffee table and buried his fingers in Sir’s fur. 

Matt reluctantly let go of Andrew’s shirt, not without one last glare, before he sat back onto the couch near Neil. 

Andrew remained standing. 

“I have to go,” Neil started. 

_No-_

It hadn’t been quiet for more than ten seconds before Neil had drawn this conclusion. “You’re both in danger and you’re involved now. It’ll be better for everyone if I just disappeared again-”

Matt and Andrew both started arguing immediately. 

 _Buzz, no, buzz, no no no, buzz buzz,_ ~~_NO._ ~~

Neil held up a hand to quiet them. Andrew only followed because of the look on Neil’s face, what hid behind his eyes. “No,” voice low. “This isn’t up for debate. Matt,” He turned towards _Lloyd_ , “It’ll look suspicious if you disappear. You’ve got finals coming up and people will notice if you’re gone. They’ll come looking.” When Matt tried to say something, Neil continued a bit louder, “I _do_ think you should get out of the apartment though. At least for a while because chances are, it’s being watched. Your family is in town, right?”

Matt gave a tight nod.

“Good. Go stay with your mom or something. Whatever it is, don’t come back until we tell you it’s okay.” _We?_ Neil turned to look at Andrew then. “Andrew,” he started and Andrew had to clench his jaw against everything he wanted to say right then,

 _‘I’m sorry. Let me fix it. I’ll keep you safe. Let me_ **_try_ ** _.’_

“You need to leave too,” Neil didn’t give him a moment to interrupt. “Go back to South Carolina. I don’t know what their stake in you is now, but you’ll be better off at home where people will notice your absence if something happens.”

_No. No, no, no._

“I got a text,” Andrew blurted out. 

Neil sighed, as if steeling himself for whatever was coming his way. He lifted his free hand and pressed two fingers against his temple. “What. Text?”

“Sunday night, when we were on the roof.” Andrew said quickly and heard Matt scoff. “I got a text from a blocked number that said, ‘ **7** ’.”

“Again,” Neil said, dropping his hand and staring hard at Andrew. He could practically feel the waves of anger and annoyance rippling from him. “It would’ve been nice to know this when _it fucking happened_.”

“I thought it was just someone fucking with me,” Andrew tried to explain. “That _happens_ and,” he took a deep breath, “I should’ve told you, yes. But that doesn’t fucking matter now. The point is,” he pointed down at the note. “That someone has their sights on _me_ , too. I’m not going to just run back to South Carolina and leave you to the fucking wolves.”

“It would be better-”

“Come with me.”

Neil’s brow furrowed. “What...?” It was like he couldn’t believe even the suggestion - either because no one besides his mother and well... _Andrew_ never stuck their neck out for him before, _or_ because the idea of it was ludicrous -

 _It’s not_. 

“Come with me,” Andrew repeated. “Back to South Carolina. To Palmetto. We can hole up in the studio because there’s power in numbers, right? We’ll be safer there where everyone will be able to keep an eye out and we’ll notice if something happens. Right now,” he shook his head. “No one knows where either of us are. I’m also an asshole and go silent for days at a time. It’ll be better if we’re there and can take care of... _This_ from a home base.” Andrew didn’t know where all of that came from, but the words flowed freely and easily - as if his subconscious were telling him it was all just _common sense._

It wasn’t that easy for Neil, who was looking down at his hands, as if considering it. 

It was Matt that sowed a seed of doubt, “You can’t be serious?” he whispered. Then stronger, “You can’t really be considering this? Neil,” he laughed, but it was humourless and short. “Neil, you need to get the fuck out of the country. I’ll give you the money for a new ID, papers, whatever! You can take it and go to fucking Timbuktu or some shit because if they found you _here_ , they’ll sure as shit find you in South Carolina.”

Andrew snatched the paper off the table and shook it at them. “No,” he said firmly. “This? You see this shit? This is a countdown,” he shook it at them again. “ _7, 6, 5._ We’re on _5_ days now. If we’re getting out, we get out _now._ There is no time for ID’s and flights and whatever else. We have to go.”

~~_Because Andrew would absolutely follow Neil to Timbuktu, just to make sure he’d gotten there okay._ ~~

_I’m not leaving now. Not again. I’ll be there this time._

This time, when Neil called, he wouldn’t be able to say _‘you weren’t there’._ Not again. Not ever a-fucking-gain.

“Why would she even bother writing on your door, instead of just killing you or whatever her fucked up goal is?” Matt asked. “How would she have gotten past security twice in a row? This place is fucking Fort Knox, are you kidding me? Maybe this is all his elaborate scheme to get you out of New York,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “ _He_ just so happens to be the one to find all these? Give me a break-”

“Matt,” Neil said, before Andrew could tell Matt to go fuck himself. He ran his fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his neck as he took a deep breath. Andrew’s chest felt tight at the sight of the familiar gesture. “It’s not him.”

“How the fuck do you know though, Neil?” He got to his knees in front of Neil on the couch. “Look at me,” he said quietly and Neil did. 

Andrew wanted to kick him in the head. 

“I’m fucking scared for you, okay? I know you think you know him-”

“I _do_ know him, Matt. And yeah, I’m fucking pissed because he’s probably the one that led her here in the first place.” He spared a glare for Andrew. “But, he’s not wrong. It’ll take time I don’t have to get proper papers and getting on a plane probably isn’t the best idea anyway.” He looked back to Matt. “Lola likes to play with her food before she eats it. She wants me terrified - she wants me to fuck up and put myself out in the open where I can be caught. _That’s_ why she’s doing this. It’s no fun to snatch me from my bed. She wants to watch me squirm.”

_Over my dead body._

Neil stood then, keeping hold of Sir. He looked steady, at least. 

“Both of you,” he looked between them. “Just listen to me. I puked five times when I heard this asshole,” he jabbed a finger in Andrew’s direction, “was looking for me. Lola’s a lot scarier. I can’t afford to lose my shit right now and I’m trying _really_ hard not to have a panic attack. So the both of you, just sit there,” he nodded to the couch, “shut the fuck up, and listen to what I’m telling you.”

Andrew and Matt both sat back on the couch. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” Neil started. “We’re going to stay here until Matt leaves for practice. Then, we’ll leave at the same time, make it look like we’re all going. Matt, can you get a car to take your shit to your mom’s house without you being in it?”

Matt rubbed his chin, gave Andrew a scathing look, then focused back on Neil. “Should be able to... I can have the doorman get my bags and carry them downstairs, then put them in the car and tell it where to go. Shouldn’t be hard, I’ll just have to call my mom and let her know what’s happening.”

Neil nodded and Andrew waited. He would save his arguments for when Neil was done. But, no matter what, they were _not_ splitting up. End of story. 

Neil momentarily buried his face in Sir’s back, breathing deep. When he looked back up to Matt, it was with his cheek pressed against her, “Send Sir, too. Okay? Make sure you take care of her.”

“Neil-”

“No, just... just make sure she’s okay. Don’t forget that she doesn’t like the fish treats. She’ll hide them somewhere out of spite if you try to give them to her.” He pulled his head back to look down at her face that was already tilted towards him. “Her favorite toy is the feather on a string, so make sure you play with her at least once a day.... And brush her too-” he added quickly. “She likes to be brushed.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Matt shook his head, eyes shining suspiciously. 

Neil looked to Andrew next. “I’ll come with you to South Carolina,” _Yes_ , “But we have to do it my way. Understand?”

A relief so profound filled Andrew’s entire body. It was so quick, so shocking, that he felt a prickling energy around him like he was going numb. All he could do was nod. 

“Alright. We’ll leave with Matt for practice, but we’ll split up before we get to the stadium. Andrew and I will go to Allison’s apartment. This one,” Neil looked around the apartment longingly, “has been compromised. We won’t leave until morning, early to beat the rush, but late enough it’ll be hard to follow us. Does Allison have a car?”

Andrew, despite himself, scoffed. “She probably has six, parked under that building. 

“Good. We’ll take one of those and switch when we can. We can’t go straight, I don’t think. We’ll have to detour a bit, try to throw anyone off who might be following us.”

Andrew just nodded. 

_Whatever you say. Yes. Fine. I’ll do it._

Matt stood, “Fine. We’ll do this your way. But, I’m coming to South Carolina.”

_Yeah fucking righ-_

“No. You’re not.” Neil shook his head and his jaw twitched again. “I already told you, it’ll be suspicious to anyone that you’ve disappeared while the season is still going.”

Matt shook his head and scooted to the edge of the couch. “I’ll fly out Sunday. I can tell anyone who asks that I’m going to do an interview for Kevin Day’s podcast. I want to make sure you’re there and you’re okay... I’ll bring Sir,” He pointed, eyes lightening for a moment like that was his ticket. “She won’t want to be away from you.”

It turns out, they were the magic words. Andrew didn’t think he’d be able to resist, to be honest, if it was between leaving King forever and having someone deliver her to him...

Neil was quiet, one hand stroking her fur as he slightly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. With a deep breath, his head twitched in a nod, “Okay,” he murmured quietly. “Okay. But don’t leave before your game Saturday, okay? Try not to tell anyone, but if they ask, say the Kevin thing. It’s a good excuse...”

Matt nodded quickly and stood. “I’m going to go back and make some calls,” He stepped to Neil and wrapped him in a hug. Neil hugged him back willingly with one arm since Sir was in the other, and something in Andrew’s chest roared at the unfairness of the casual touch. 

“Keep me posted, okay?” Matt murmured quietly. “Let me know you’re okay.” Neil swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

With one last look both at Neil _and_ Andrew (very different looks), Matt disappeared to his room, leaving the two of them alone. They stared at each other for a moment, before Neil walked past Andrew, finally setting Sir on the floor. 

“Where are you going?” he asked. His voice sounded rough, felt scratchy. He didn’t know why. 

“To pack.” 

Andrew followed him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if this is my fault, but I’m sorry anyway, okay? I never wanted this to happen. I just-”

“Stop,” Neil sighed and turned to face him. “Just.. stop. It doesn’t matter now. It’s here and we have to deal with it.” Neil turned back around, bypassed the number on his door, and headed to his closet. 

Andrew followed because what else would he do...? He bit into his lip ring and watched as Neil pulled out an old looking backpack. It was faded and tattered and looked like it’d seen a lot. He started pulling clothes from his closet, letting them fall to the floor. Then, he sat down next to them, beside the backpack, and started shoving them in before stopping. 

He let his head drop to his hands and Andrew dropped to the floor next to him. 

Neil’s shoulders were shaking, his breathing was shallow, so Andrew took a deep breath for him. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, voice so soft, so quiet - like he didn’t want to disturb whatever bubble was surrounding them. 

Neil didn’t respond for a moment, his fingers pressing into his eyes... And then, a very quiet, “yes.”

Andrew raised his hand slowly and placed it on the back of Neil’s neck. He pushed forward, just a bit, and applied pressure. Eventually, he heard Neil take a deep breath and watched as his hands dropped to his lap. Neil let his shoulder’s relax before he murmured, “I really liked it here...”

“I know,” Andrew replied, keeping everything quiet and contained in this place that was personal and thick with tension. He didn’t want the bubble to suddenly pop - didn’t want to disrupt the air. 

Eventually, Neil sat up straight. “I have too many things,” he sighed and Andrew moved his hand from his neck. 

He looked about the room and felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips. “Doesn’t seem like so much,” he said before he could stop himself. 

Luckily, Neil just huffed what could’ve been a laugh if it weren’t for the fucked up situation they were in. He shook his head and followed Andrew’s gaze. “No, I guess it doesn’t. Still... I’ve never had this many clothes. Not since we left anyway... We always had to be able to fit everything in a backpack.” He lifted his bag, “I can’t even fit half in this. What am I supposed to do with the rest...?”

_Buzz_

Andrew rubbed his hands on his pants and his shoulder twitched to press against his tattoo. The amount of clothes Neil had in this room was a fraction of what Andrew had shoved into closets and drawers in South Carolina. 

“Leave it,” Andrew eventually said. “These clothes and stolen memorabilia-”

“ _Found.”_

 _“Found_ memorabilia, aren’t really indicative of your time here. That’s Lloyd isn’t it?” He heard Neil huff a laugh. Andrew _did not_ want to smile. “And something tells me you won’t be able to get rid of him, no matter how hard you try.”

Neil really did laugh now. It was quiet and bare, but it was enough to push him to continue shoving clothes into his bag. He then looked up at Andrew and Andrew forced himself not to look away. It was overwhelming, it was too much - but he didn’t look away. 

“Are you sorry now...? That you found me?” Neil asked. 

_Never._

“No.”

“Me neither.”

* * *

 

After parting ways with Matt, in which he hugged Neil until Neil had to tap out and a very tense goodbye with Sir that Neil absolutely _did not_ tear up over, Neil and Andrew found themselves in Allison’s apartment. 

It took them double the time it would have, taking different subway lines - even going so far as to dip into Brooklyn and emerge on the Lower East Side to trail back up.  When they arrived, they dropped their bags by the door and Andrew did a quick, cursory look around the place just to make sure this place wasn’t compromised either. 

Eventually, when he deemed the place safe and locked all the locks on the front door, he finally turned towards Neil. 

“There are four bedrooms,” Andrew said, not quite meeting his eyes. “Pick whichever one you want.”

Neil didn’t say anything. He was still in a weird place of hating Andrew for bringing this upon him, and being grateful he was here at all. 

What he was positive about, however, was that he didn’t want to sleep in a room alone - not after what happened. 

“Or....” Andrew said, finally looking up at him, “We can camp out in the living room. Might be safer, to be in the same room.”

It was nearing night, only 8 o’clock, and the sun was making its steady descent. He hadn’t eaten anything all day and couldn’t find the appetite now. His entire body felt exhausted, worn, drained. All he wanted to do was curl up on something comfortable and hope to find solace in sleep he knew wouldn’t come. 

Neil just sighed and rubbed his face. 

“We’re sleeping in Allison’s room again,” he got out. “I get that you’re trying to do this whole ‘respect my space’ thing, and that’s great. But,” Neil inhaled a deep breath that didn’t seem deep enough, “I agree. We should be in the same room and one that has a lock. The bed is gigantic, it’ll be fine.”

Andrew just stared at him for a moment, before eventually nodding. “There’s a couch in there. I’ll sleep on it and you can have the bed.”

“Fine.”

 _Fine._ _I’m fine. Everything’s fine._

Neil made his way to the room to drop off his bag. He didn’t know what Andrew’s issue was... What did he think would happen if they were in the same bed...? Maybe he didn’t trust Neil. 

Neil snorted at the thought. What the hell would _he_ do?

_Maybe he doesn’t trust himself._

No. Andrew seemed like someone who kept himself pretty firmly under control. 

Anyway, he... Neil remembered that Andrew had choices taken away from him as a kid, and it was important, most likely, for him to not force choices on anyone else. 

_Stupid, Nathaniel._

A small guilt washed over him and it was chased by a realization slowly dawning on him. 

That was when he heard Andrew walk in behind him. 

“You don’t have to sleep in here,” Neil quickly said. “I was just thinking it’s probably safer with both of us behind a locked door-”

“It’s fine,” Andrew said, not looking up at him. He was gathering clothes from around the room to pack. “You’re right, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

_Me...?_

Neil stepped into Andrew’s path before he could stop himself. Andrew drew up short from where he was going for his boots. “You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Neil said and it felt - 

“Good to know.”

* * *

 

It was 4AM. No incidents, murderous or otherwise had happened overnight. Andrew was annoyed at having to be awake so damn early, so he made sure Neil was awake with him. 

His fingertips touched Neil’s shoulder and he gave him a small shake. **_If he were anyone else, I probably would’ve just kicked him._ ** 

“Get up,” He said, nudging Neil a bit harder. “You’re the one who wanted to leave so god damn early, so get up.”

Neil groaned and rolled over onto his back, a single curl falling over his forehead. He really needed a haircut.

_Idiot._

Andrew left the room and went to start a pot of coffee. He was more than exhausted and had no memory of actually sleeping. He rubbed his neck where he’d laid awkwardly on the couch in Allison’s room. He didn’t mind though, not really. It made him feel better, both to be in the same room as Neil and on a different sleeping surface than him. 

Before they slept, he’d called Allison about borrowing one of her cars. He didn’t tell her that Neil was with him, or that they’d probably end up swapping it out for a rental at some point. He just told her that he couldn’t fly and needed to drive back down to South Carolina. Whether or not she believed him, he didn’t know, but he had to give it to Reynolds, she didn’t ask any questions. It was surprising how much she trusted Andrew when he told her it was important. All she gave him was the location of the keys and how to access the garage where they were parked. 

Andrew found the stash and sorted through them: Mclaren, BMW, Porsche...

He chose the Porsche.

_Really do have to give it to Reynolds..._

Neil came in, bleary eyed and tired, but fully dressed with his bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Coffee should be ready in a minute.” 

Neil just nodded and slid onto a stool to wait. 

Andrew leaned against the counter and surveyed him. Neil was all soft and sleepy, but with an edge that was sharp - like he was resting on a hair trigger. Whether it was ready to run, he didn’t know. 

Neil gave him a squinted look. 

“No contacts?” 

Neil shrugged and tried to stifle a yawn. He looked down at the counter and tapped his fingers against it. “What’s the point...?” he eventually asked. “They know what I look like - brown eyes or blue, and they’re actively chasing me. It’s easier not to deal with them when I’m... traveling”

Andrew was almost sure Neil was going to say ‘ _running’_ instead. 

“Good point,” Andrew murmured. He was in full support of this plan. ~~_Of course you are, you fucking disaster._ ~~ “The brown doesn’t suit you.”

Neil raised a brow at him, but Andrew just turned to pour two cups of coffee instead. 

Twenty minutes later, they were finally ready to leave. 

“I’m going to have to make a few calls while we’re on the road,” Andrew told him. He wanted to get Bee out. He felt confident that they’d be able to make it to Palmetto, using evasive maneuvers, and  that being around people was a good thing - but still. There was still a chance they could be followed here and if something happened to Bee because of that, he’d never recover. That was too much. 

“Make your calls now,” Neil told him, double checking his backpack. “Then you need to ditch your phone. 

It was common sense, but Andrew still looked up at him, startled. “What? I’m not ditching my phone. I have important shit on here. There are pictures of King and Bella - I’m not getting rid of it.”

Neil sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulders. “Listen. You wanted to stick together?” He raised a brow. Andrew nodded tersely. “Good. Then remember, we’re doing this my way. She has your number; probably keeping tabs on you through your phone.” Andrew just stared at him. “Jesus christ,” Neil groaned. “Fine, you big baby. Take the sim card out so you have your shit and ditch the phone. I have extra burners in my backpack I’ve been picking up since I’ve been here. You can use one to make your calls.”

“Done this before, have you?”

Neil smiled a crooked smile. ~~It made Andrew’s chest hurt.~~ “A time or two, I suppose.” He bumped Andrew’s shoulder with his own. “Let’s go.” He headed out the door with Andrew following behind, rubbing his shoulder. 

When they made it to Allison’s car, Neil scoffed. “You’re joking, right? This thing is ridiculous.”

Andrew looked over the sleek curves of the black Porsche 911 GTS and nodded in agreement. “I know. So fucking sexy,” he sighed. “Reynold’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but she has good fucking taste in cars.”

Neil shook his head. “Whatever. We need to ditch it and get something else once we’re out of the city. This will bring way too much attention.”

Andrew didn’t say anything. He popped the trunk so they could throw their bags in, and slid behind the wheel. He gripped it for a moment and took a deep breath of leather. All of a sudden, he felt calmer. Neil sat beside him and Andrew looked over only to note the tight jaw, shoulders, and eyes. He lifted a tentative hand and giving Neil enough time to pull away, he put his hand on the back of Neil’s neck and squeezed. He felt him relax into the touch and something about that made -

“Ready?” Andrew asked quietly. 

Neil swallowed once and nodded his head, staring out the windshield. 

* * *

 

An hour later, they were still in the city. Neil had insisted on taking a convoluted route that would take them all the way around, through New Jersey then into Pennsylvania. It wasn’t the quickest way, but Neil didn’t _want_ quick. He had no idea if they were being followed, and he didn’t want to let on too soon where they were going. 

_Just in case._

“We’ll go through Philly,” he said, sometime later and looking at the map on his phone. “Drive around in circles a bit, maybe. Try and lose anyone trying to follow in the morning traffic rush.”

Andrew nodded. He’d been quiet so far - plotting, Neil could tell. He wasn’t sure _what_ though. It was still early by the time they made it to Philadelphia - only just 10AM, but Andrew insisted on stopping for snacks and to make his calls. Neil didn’t argue. Whoever he was calling, he needed to just go ahead and do it so he could concentrate on what was happening and nothing else. 

Neil went inside to get snacks to give Andrew some semblance of privacy. When he came back, loaded down with Andrew’s ridiculous requests (plus some fruit), Andrew was still on the phone. He made to leave the car again, but Andrew waved at him to stay. 

So, he did. 

Neil watched as Andrew closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. _He’s tired_ ... Must not have slept well last night. Neil wanted to reach out to him - to rub his neck the way he rubbed Neil’s. But, he didn’t know what that kind of touch would _mean_ , or how Andrew would take it. So... He sat patiently with his hands in his lap, pretending not to listen. 

“Bee, I know it’s confusing, okay? But, I’ve already talked to Aaron. I just need you to go visit them in Chicago for a bit-” Andrew stopped to listen. “I _know_ you have work, but you’ve been there forever and they’re not going to fault you for a vacation - one week at most. Aaron is taking care of your ticket now and Bella already knows you’re coming. She’s really excited, so now you _have_ to.”

He listened some more, and Neil could tell the moment Bee agreed. Andrew let his head fall back to the headrest and let out, “Thank you...” in a relieved breath. “I promise, I’ll explain everything later. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Andrew hung up and pushed his glasses to the top of his head to rub his eyes. 

“You okay...?” Neil asked, tentatively. 

“Peachy,” Andrew mumbled, but then, like he realized how that sounded, he just shook his head. “Now that Bee’s agreed to leave South Carolina,” he nodded without saying anything else. Andrew turned his head to look at Neil and Neil smiled a little, then a bit more. The early morning light shone through the windshield and hit his eyes in just the right spot. For that moment, Neil could pretend they were back in that snack bar - pinkies wound together and just a breath apart - 

“What are you smiling at?” Andrew’s brow furrowed. “Is it my winning demeanor? Because listen, I can’t tell you the number of guys I’ve had to beat away because of my charm alone.” 

Neil’s smile faltered. _Would he want to beat me away, too?_

“No.” He shook his head. “Just glad she’s leaving. What about the others? You’re not worried about them?”

Andrew shook his head and set his glasses back on his nose. “No. I don’t really expect trouble for anyone but us. It just makes me feel better to not have to worry about her. I need to know she’s safe to be able to concentrate...”

Neil nodded. It made sense, he supposed... But honestly, he couldn’t remember what it was like to have to worry about someone else in situations like these. 

He tossed a Banana to Andrew. “Here. Eat this so you have some energy while you drive - since I know you’re not going to let me get behind this thing.”

“Nope,” Andrew said with a pop on the _P_. “I’m sure not. And you better have gotten something other than a fucking banana, or you’re going back in there to get me some proper energy snacks.”

Neil huffed and pulled out a Reese’s Cup. Andrew nodded in approval. “Thank god,” he mumbled and ripped it open with his teeth, then pulled one out. He popped the entire thing in his mouth, then put the tip of his thumb in his mouth to clean the chocolate off - 

“Where to?” Andrew asked. 

Neil directed his eyes to his phone and shook his head. “Just drive around the city aimlessly for a while, blend in with morning traffic. Get stuck a little.”

Andrew nodded. “Okay.”

So, they did. Once Andrew was properly sugared up, Neil felt it was safe enough to try actual conversation. 

“I’m going to take a turn in our game.”

Andrew didn’t say anything for a moment. He just nodded and murmured an eventual, “Okay.”

“So,” Neil started. “Bee... I know she became your guardian when you were 16. Do you see her as a mom?” 

It was a personal question. Neil didn’t know why he wanted to know, but alas. 

Andrew took a sip of what had to be cold coffee by now, before he answered. “Yeah, I suppose. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.”

“What about your birth mother? Didn’t you go live with her and your brother when you left juvie?”

Andrew shook his head. “That’s two questions. I get to go first.”

Neil waited. 

“You asked me what I thought when I first saw you at the Grand Canyon. What about you? What did you think when you first saw me?”

_Yeah, what did you think, Nathaniel?_

_Shut up._

“I thought you seemed like an asshole,” Neil answered and the atmosphere cracked enough for Andrew to laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Neil laughed, too. “I mean, you were just this kid pulling me away when I was really supposed to be hiding and doing everything to _not_ bring attention to myself. You pull me to this snack... _shack_ , break in, and I’m thinking I’m going to get caught by security or something and my mum would’ve fucking _lost it._ Then, you make me eat disgusting fucking candy -” Neil shook his head. “It was scarring, really.”

Andrew hummed, “Yes, so scarring, you kept that postcard all these years. How do you defend yourself against that?”

“I don’t,” Neil shrugged. And then, “I waxed poetic about your eyes too, you know.” He didn’t know why he said that, he didn’t know why he would let him know but,

_Alas._

Andrew’s head snapped to Neil and Neil pointedly kept looking forward and bless his fucking soul, he kept going. “Did you know, when the light hits them just right, they turn golden? Like honey.”

~~_Nathaniel-_ ~~

Andrew gripped the wheel noticeably tighter in Neil’s periphery and Neil bit his lip. He _wanted_ to push this... He wanted to say more things to get a reaction - but, he kept quiet. 

Eventually, Andrew murmured, “No. I didn’t know.”

* * *

 

Neil made them drive around Philly for two hours, before he finally let them head out of the city and back towards New Jersey. Andrew argued only briefly because going through New Jersey made absolutely no sense, and they’d have to go through Delaware to get back on track for South Carolina. Neil just calmly explained that he didn’t want to go straight there. He wanted to confuse anyone that may be following them. Which, sure, made sense - but, Andrew ~~stubborn as ever~~ just shook his head and did as told. 

However, they hadn’t even made it out of Pennsylvania, before they noticed. 

It started with Bee’s gentle buzz, and then a car in his rear view. They were being followed, Andrew was certain of it, but he didn’t want to say anything to Neil just yet. As it goes, he didn’t even have to. 

“We’re being followed,” Neil said, calmly. 

_Too calmly._

Andrew flicked his eyes to the rearview again. “I know. What do you want me to do?”

“Get off the interstate.” They were traveling on I-676 towards New Jersey, and Andrew got off at the next exit he saw, waiting until the last minute to switch lanes and get off. It didn’t work. 

The car was black - new. The windows were tinted and they couldn’t tell who was inside.

“ _Fuck-_ ” Andrew cursed, then chewed on his lip ring - eyes constantly flicking to the mirror. “I can outrun them in this car,” he murmured off handedly. 

“No.” Neil’s voice was firm. “You’ll only garner more attention and get the cops involved. Head towards traffic and try to lose them in the flow.”

Andrew did. He could still see the car behind, but they were able to jump further and further ahead. He was just about to get back on the interstate when the car pulled up in the lane next to them. 

 _“Shit, shit, shit-_ ” Andrew tried to speed up, but there was nowhere to go with  a car in front of him and nothing but grass to the side. There was a turn coming up though, and Andrew was about to take it when Neil grabbed the wheel and gave a quick pull, so they would stay on the main road.

“What the fuck?!” Andrew yelled. The car was still there - a little further behind, but there. “I could’ve lost them!” He looked quickly at Neil, wild eyed and surprisingly angry. 

_What the fuck does he think this is?!_

Andrew was no expert like Neil, but he assumed losing the car was the entire fucking point, and Neil just grabbed the wheel. Like it was nothing! With this stupid fucking _plan and his stupid fucking -_ “You need a fucking haircut!” Andrew yelled over the roar of the engine and the screech of a set of tires as he weaved between cars. 

Neil quickly pulled back his chin and stopped himself short from whatever shit he was about to spit back. “What?!”

“I said,” Andrew scoffed. “You need a fucking haircut! As soon as we stop somewhere, that’s what’s happening! Christ - you just walk around with that _one fucking curl_ on your forehead, and you don’t even realize it!”

Somewhere, in the back of his brain, Andrew knew this was stupid. But, that part of his brain wasn’t working right now. However, the part where this was all the fault of that single _fucking_ forehead curl, was working just fine and _ready_ to argue. 

Neil just stared at him, brows pulled together and eyes squinted. “I dont know what the fuck you’re talking about, _but_ that road led to a beach on the Delaware, and we’re not letting them corner us on a secluded beach, a packed beach, _whatever fucking_ beach. So, just keep driving and try to get back on the interstate when you can.”

_None of this makes any sense. Why are we even going this way? It’ll take us days to get home where it could’ve taken us hours and -_

He just wanted to get home, see his fucking cat, and not die in the process. But.

_But._

He would listen to Neil, because he had to. Because Neil knew what he was doing... he hoped. 

“Fine. But, we need to get rid of this car soon,” he mumbled. “The sooner we can get a different one, the better.”

“I agree,” said Neil. “But, it’s too dangerous to stop now.”

Andrew looked in the mirror again ~~because he couldn’t help it~~ ~~.~~ He didn’t see the car. “Did we lose them?”

Neil turned his head over his shoulder and craned his neck to see out the rear. “I don’t see the car -” he started, then sat back down and shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Get on the interstate and top the speed limit. We’ll get off in a few exits and drive in the city traffic some more.”

So, Andrew did. 

* * *

 

The car after that was tense and quiet. Neil was almost certain he was going to chew a hole in his lip, and he kept self consciously checking for said forehead-curl _,_ that he was _certain_ did not exist. 

_You need to stop. Switch cars._

They were still too nervous to get out of the car. 

_You need to get gas soon. You haven’t even made it out of New Jersey-_

They were headed towards Delaware, but with all the on and off the interstate they were doing, it was taking forever. Already, dusk was settling above and they would be stuck on the side of the road if they didn’t stop soon. 

“We need gas,” Andrew said, breaking the silence and pulling into a station. “And I’m fucking starving. We have to stop.”

Neil just nodded. They’d gone through the snack stash he’d gotten that morning and he knew enough about Andrew to know he needed some sort of sugar intake ASAP or he’d be mad about Neil’s god damned eyebrows next. 

He hated this though. Neil fucking hated this. He knew it was Andrew’s idea, but he hated dragging someone else into this mess... 

If something happened to Andrew - 

_No._

He couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t be able to leave it alone, if he did. 

_You’re an idiot, Nathaniel._

~~_I know, mom._ ~~

They were able to fill back up and grab some food without incident, before getting back on the interstate and heading towards Delaware, once again. Neil was looking for the closest rental car place on his phone, when he heard Andrew curse. 

_“God fucking damnit.”_

Neil looked up to find Andrew staring hard through the rearview. He already knew, but he looked anyway. 

It was back.

~~_Of course it’s fucking back, Nathaniel._ ~~

The black car was speeding up, gaining on them. 

“Get off the interstate,” Neil said, feeling remarkably calm for how _scared_ he was inside. In fact, he’d been able to keep the panic at bay and his head fairly level, this entire time. He knew it was probably, in part, due to Andrew being here and the pure fact that he didn’t want to lose sense than there was another person at stake. However, the longer they drove, the harder it became. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Andrew murmured, tense. He sped up and got off at the next exit, but the car followed. 

“They mean it this time,” Neil said. 

“They didn’t last time?”

_No._

Neil shook his head. “That was Lola fucking with us. She wanted us to know she was there, following, but she didn’t want to do anything yet. She does now.”

_Breathe Neil. Don’t lose it. You’re not the only one in this car._

He tried to repeat that like a mantra in his mind to choke out his mother’s voice reminding him how _stupid_ he is and how reckless he’s become. 

Eventually, they made it to Delaware and were through Wilmington. The signs by the next exit said _New Castle_. Neil had no idea where or what that was, he just knew they needed to get off the open interstate and get lost somewhere. 

Andrew drove and Neil clutched the sides of his seat, eyes glued to the mirror. She was still there - still fucking with them. Speeding up and slowing down, she wouldn’t let Andrew turn. Anytime he tried, she’d speed up and get in the way. Cars honked and swerved and Neil was sure at some point they’d attract cops, but? 

They were forced to make a hard right when the car sped up on their left. This went on for a good fifteen minutes before he let his mother's voice back in and she screamed at him to realize. 

“She’s herding us,” he said quietly, feeling the dread slowly settle into his bones. 

“Herding us _where_?” Andrew asked through clenched teeth. 

_Where..._

“There,” Neil pointed to a sign. ~~_Of fucking course_ ~~ “Demeers Beach.”

“Fuck.” Andrew said, clear and void of anything. 

_Yeah._

All the fucking reasons he didn’t want to head towards a beach in New Jersey began floating around in his head. But, they were stuck. There was no where else to go and Andrew was forced to make another right down a dirt road just as the black car hit the Porsche on Neil’s side. One of Andrew’s hands immediately flew out to grab Neil, but he was forced yet again to drive until they came upon an access road. 

And that’s where they saw smoke, flames; smelled petrol seep through the ventilation of the Porsche. 

“Holy shit,” Andrew breathed. 

There was nowhere to go and they came to a complete stop when the Porsche hit rocks. There was a drop off ahead made up of large white rocks and below that, crashing waves of a beach -

And on that beach, was a car. 

A Volvo S70 in flames and unmistakable, even through the fire, was a large number **4** painted in red on it’s side. 

Neil couldn’t breathe. 

_Nathaniel -_

Suddenly, he didn’t know where he was. The smell of fire and gasoline were in his lungs and all he could see was his hand, closing his mothers eyes over and _over and over and -_

“Neil.” Firm and grounding and _far_ . “Neil!” Louder, but right. He could feel himself shaking; a hand warm and _right_ and Neil paid _it_ , _him_ , _Andrew_ no mind. Because Andrew _wasn’t there._ Neil wished he had been... But he wasn’t - not when neil laid his head on his mother’s stomach, let the blood soak in his hair, and cried so much, he couldn’t tell if the salt was from the sea or his tears.  

_Nathaniel._

Neil got out of the car as Andrew cursed and tried to back it up. 

The black car, _Lola_ , was still there - a few feet behind just sitting. Waiting. Watching. 

_Laughing._

Neil grit his teeth. He tasted blood, tears, smoke, fear, and angry desperation, and “What the fuck do you want?!” Neil heard himself yell. Like a rubberband drawn tight, he could feel himself snap. “What do you want from me?! I have nothing! I have nothing left to give!”

The car stayed silent - because of course it did. Neil squinted enough to see two people in the front, when he was sure there had only been one before. 

A man and a woman. 

Lola and Romero. 

He lifted a foot to make his way towards the car. What he was going to do, he didn’t know. If anything? He wasn’t sure. But this was going to end now. He _needed_ it to end now. He’d let them kill him - he’d let them _end this_ , if they let Andrew go untouched.

His foot didn’t make it back to the rocky ground before someone grabbed him by the arm. He spun his head around to find Andrew. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Andrew hissed, teeth bared and grip tight. “Get back in the _fucking_ car before you get shot!” The grip was grounding. 

_Andrew’s here now. Even if he wasn’t before._

Neil looked back towards _Lola_ and _Romero_ , only to see the car backing away. He vaguely registered sirens in the distance and they were enough of a push to get him to move. 

Andrew shoved him back in the car and with a lot of grunting and cursing, finally got it to move. He drove as quickly as he could back to the main road, making sure to go in the opposite direction of the black car, and drove a short distance until he reached what looked like a neighborhood with an open field serving as a park. Andrew pulled into it, put the car in park, and got out. 

Neil didn’t know where he was going, but he needed him to _stay_ . His fingers were tingly and it was traveling up his arms, he could feel it. Soon, it would be in his lungs and he wouldn’t be able to breathe when he desperately wanted to _scream_. 

His door opened and Andrew pulled him out. Neil came willingly. Andrew leaned over to push the front seat forward and Neil got in the back without having to be asked. 

Andrew got in after him and Neil?

He collapsed. He tried to breathe, but all that came was a gasp and he reached his hands out blindly - looking for something, anything, _Andrew._

He was there. He was _here_ this time and he was real and solid and Neil wouldn't have to hear that woman say Andrew wasn’t there anymore. No. He was _here_ and Neil let himself fall into him without any preamble. He didn’t know if this was okay or not, but he couldn’t have made himself care if he tried. Maybe later, he could curse himself for it, beat himself up and wish he’d done something different but now? 

He stopped wondering when he felt strong arms around him. It was instinctive, automatic. He didn’t know if he ever did this to _anyone_ before, but he buried his face in Andrew’s neck and it felt _right_. A hand came up behind his own neck and the grip was firm as Andrew’s other arm wrapped around his shoulder, holding him tight. 

“I’m here,” Andrew kept saying. “ _I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,_ ”

_He’s here._

Neil sat there. Wide eyed and shaking. He was warm, though. It helped with the numbness. He clutched a hand onto Andrew’s shirt and tried his best to take a few deep breaths. All that he could manage was a whispered, “I’m sorry...” For everything. For pulling him into this and putting him in danger and falling apart. Was this okay?

_It feels okay._

To have Andrew here with him, keeping him together. Broken boys, the both of them, leaning on one another. 

“Shut up,” Andrew said in his ear. “Don’t you fucking dare. This entire thing is probably my fucking fault anyway.” Neil felt him turn his head so that his face was in Neil’s hair. 

“I need a haircut...” Neil mumbled into Andrew’s skin. 

Andrew squeezed his neck in return, “Yeah,” he sighed. “You fucking do.”

* * *

 

Andrew stayed, letting Neil keep his face buried in his neck. He took deep, even breaths, trying to get Neil to match his rhythm. Eventually, it worked and Neil decided to move. Honestly, it was probably stupid. Lola could come back at any time and kill them both - but he couldn’t find it in himself to tell Neil to suck it up and get back in the front. 

Realistically, it probably didn’t take long, but sitting there with the scent of Neil’s shampoo in his nose and the feel of Neil’s shuddering breaths under his hands, it felt like a very long time. 

Eventually, however, things must come to an end. Neil finally stirred and Andrew immediately removed his hands. He watched Neil sit up straight, take a deep breath, and use both his hands to rub his face, eyes, and hair. Then, he turned to Andrew. 

“We should probably go,” he murmured quietly, not _solidly_ , but solid _enough_ by _their_ standards. “They’ll probably lay low, for at least a little while, since the cops are probably all over that car by now.”

Andrew just nodded and moved to get out of the back. He could still feel Neil under his hands and it struck him, that was probably the most mutual contact he’d willingly had with a person... well. Ever. 

He didn’t mind it though. 

It didn’t make his skin crawl.

 _He_ didn’t make his skin crawl. 

In fact, it made a spark. And that spark, was a very dangerous thing, Andrew thought. 

Once they were back in the front seat, Neil took one more deep breath to shake off the last dregs of his panic attack, and pulled out his phone. 

“There’s an enterprise not far from here,” he said after a few moments. “If we hurry, we can make it before they close.” He didn’t look at Andrew, but his voice was considerably better than before. He was pushing forward, so Andrew would too - despite the fact that he wanted to ask if he was okay. However, he knew that if it were him, he wouldn’t want someone to ask... because in the long run, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if either of them were okay, because even if they _weren’t_ , they had to keep moving. 

_We need to get out._

* * *

 

One disgusting rental car and cheap motel later, Andrew and Neil were holed up in a room eating gas station hot dogs and not saying anything. The silence wasn’t awkward though. In fact, Neil thought it felt _comfortable_. 

He finished off the last of his gross food and stood. “I’m going to shower,” He said. Andrew just nodded and started digging through his bag. Neil made his way with his things to the tiny bathroom. When he shut the door, he turned to face himself in the mirror. 

Andrew hadn’t been lying about the forehead curl. It was there and the auburn at his roots was slowly creeping up, up, up. He’d been neglecting it in the past few weeks - he couldn’t really say _why..._ or really, he didn’t _want_ to say why. He knew it’d been since Andrew had come though. He needed to refresh it but hadn’t. Maybe it was because it felt so pointless now, to hide. It was habit really, more than anything. But, if he was being honest, the disguises his mother insisted they kept, never stopped his father’s men from catching up with him. Red hair, brown, black - they were _always_ found. It wasn’t until his mother died suddenly and it wasn’t a mother/son duo they were looking for anymore, that he’d been able to at least partially breathe. 

He hated that he looked like his father, but it just didn’t seem as important anymore... At 25 years old - to obsess over the color of his eyes?

No. Not recently anyway. Not in this hotel room with _Andrew._

* * *

 

Andrew dug through his backpack while Neil went to take a shower, and as soon as the door closed - he dropped it and flung his glasses on the bed. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes and running his fingers listlessly through his hair. 

_Everything is so fucked up._

All of it. He didn’t know what to think - didn’t know what to _do_. The only thing he really knew was that he needed to get Neil to Palmetto as soon as he could. 

_We need to hole up._

Before, he hadn’t been terribly worried. In fact, he thought they had a solid plan... He thought they’d be able to get out of New York undetected and make their way to South Carolina with minimal issue. He’d been stupid and he’d been wrong, and now, he was just _worried_. 

Pulling out the burner phone he’d been using, he dialed Renee’s number. Picking his bag back up, he continued to dig through it while it rang, trying to find something to sleep in. That was when his hand found his recorder and he stared at it for a few seconds. 

_‘Hello?’_

“Renee, it’s Andrew.”

_‘Andrew! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick - where are you?’_

Andrew could hear the relief in her voice and he smiled a little. It was nice to know someone besides Bee was keeping tabs on him. 

Neil walked out of the bathroom then, steam billowing behind him. His hair was wet and pushed back on his head - dripping small drops on his t-shirt and 

_And..._

“I’m...” Andrew started, still looking at Neil because - and Neil gave him a puzzled look. Quickly snapping out of it, Andrew shook his head and put a hand over the receiver. “It’s Renee,” he told him. “How much can I tell her?”

Neil gave a sigh and caught a drop of water dripping down his cheek with the back of his wrist. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll know I’m with you when we get there and it would probably be good for someone to know where you are... just in case.”

Andrew nodded, turned his head away, and removed his hand from the phone. 

_‘Andrew?’_

“I’m here,” Then, “I’m in Delaware. We’re on our way to South Carolina, but we’re being followed. We’re trying to throw them off our destination, so we’re taking the scenic route.”

Renee was quiet for a beat. _‘We?’_

“We.” Andrew confirmed and quickly glanced towards the bathroom, “Me and... Neil. Nathaniel,” He watched as Neil stood at the sink, preparing to brush his teeth. The tightening of his shoulders didn’t go unnoticed, however. 

 _‘You’re bringing him back to Palmetto?’_ Renee asked. She sounded more intrigued than confused, which he supposed was a good-ish sign. 

“Yes.” He didn’t feel like explaining - not with Neil standing a few feet away with a straight back and paused brushing. 

 _‘Okay,’_ Renee said easily. _‘How’s it going... with you two?’_

_Fuck._

“It’s a fucking party over here, Renee.” He couldn’t keep his attitude from spiking. He’d set aside time to regret it later. “Listen, I need you to do something for me.” He moved on and immediately heard shuffling and knew Renee was getting something to write with. This was why he relied so heavily on her - he knew no matter what he said, she’d take it seriously. 

_‘Go.’_

“Tell Reynolds her car is at an Enterprise in New Castle, Delaware. I’ll text you the address. I assume she’ll want someone to come get it, but we had to ditch it. There.... may be some body damage.”

Sweet, good, tolerant Renee only sighed. _‘Fine. What else?’_

Andrew flicked his gaze back to Neil and then said quietly, not _confidently_ , but imploringly, “If I don’t make it back to Palmetto, I need you to get King to Bee.”

_‘Andrew, what-’_

“Just listen, I don’t want to explain right now. But, I want her to go to Bee if anything happens, okay? Bee is out of town right now at Aaron’s. I made sure she got out and she should’ve left this afternoon. Go by the house for me and make sure she got on the plane. I don’t trust Aaron to pick up the phone when I call to check.”

_‘Okay...’_

_Thank you._

“Everything else is in a safe under my bed - papers and shit. The key is in a box of Fruity Pebbles on top of the fridge. It’s underneath the bag.”

_‘Andrew... what’s going on...? We can call the police if we need to-’_

“No,” Andrew cut her off quickly. “No police. Not yet. That could do more harm than good right now. I just need to know if you’ll do those things for me.” Andrew picked up his recorder again and rubbed a thumb over it. 

_‘Of course I will... Just keep me posted, okay? Let me know where you are and what’s going on.’_

“I will. Bye, Renee.”

When he hung up, he turned towards Neil who was now sitting on the other bed across from Andrew. 

“Maybe we should split up,” He said slowly, tugging one ear and not meeting Andrew’s eyes. “They’ll probably just chase me. You can go straight to South Carolina and not worry about all this mess-”

“Shut up.” _No. Absofuckinglutely not. No._ “We’re not splitting up. We’re staying together and,” he held up the recorder. “We’re going to record.”

Neil’s eyes flicked between the device and Andrew’s eyes warily. “What do you mean, record?”

“I mean, Audio Notes. Just,” he shook his head. “Hear me out.” He knew this would sound insane, but it was the best idea he had.

“We record everything that happens,” Andrew continued. “I interview you. If anything else happens with Lola, we get it on tape. Are you following?” Neil just looked to him with his wide blue eyes. “It’s _insurance,_ Neil. We’ll have proof of what actually went down, and the attention from _this_ will protect us. If the listeners and the public know you’re alive and out here, and that we’ve been running from murderous fucking psychopaths - it won’t go unnoticed if something happens. For us, this,” he waved the recorder, “is hiding in plain sight.”

Neil chewed his lip while he thought it over. Andrew could see the cogs turning, could see the _indent_ where his teeth bit in and he wanted desperately to pull his bottom lip away and make him stop. “Maybe...” Neil murmured and hesitated. “To be honest, I feel like I’ve already been outed, so...” he half shrugged and finally lifted his eyes. “But, you have to understand - the feds could get me for a lot of shit. Using fake ID’s, counterfeit money - fuck, even desecration of a corpse if they really wanted. This isn’t just me running from Lola... I’m running from them, too.”

_I know. But it’s a risk-_

Andrew nodded. His fingers twitched. “I understand all that, and it’s part of the reason I told Renee no cops. But, if we put this out to the public and the feds try to bust you for _any_ of that, the reaction would be so overwhelming, they’d have to back down.” 

He knew this sounded like a long shot, but he had nothing else. This _had_ to be it. This _had to work_. 

Neil inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Okay,” he finally said, nodding. “Okay, you’re right. It’s the best way to stay somewhat protected. And-” Neil gestured to his head. “I want to change my hair. If we’re doing this, I may as well get my natural color back. The more recognizable I am, the better.”

_Right. Right, right, right..._

Andrew forced himself to nod. “Alright,” he feigned calm. Why? He didn’t know. Because there was _nothing -_ ~~_Don’t be an idiot._ ~~ “We’ll do that when we get to Palmetto.” His eyes landed back on the recorder in his hand and used that to move on. “Are you ready?”

Neil tucked his chin and visibly leaned away from Andrew. “Right now?!”

Andrew _did not_ roll his eyes, “Yes. Now. We need to start as soon as possible.”

After a few beats of a tight jaw, Neil finally relaxed and nodded. 

Andrew pressed record. 

[ Record On ]

“Andrew Minyard, July 3, 2019, 9:03PM. Tell me your name... and spell it.” He said it more quietly than he should’ve for a recording, but it hit him then. He’d dreamed about this moment, hadn’t he...? He’d done this so many times in his head - _‘tell me your name and spell it.’_ But, now he was actually here - with Nathaniel Wesninski, interviewing him and

And he couldn’t remember a single thing he wanted to ask when he’d started this investigation. None of it seemed important anymore. 

“Which one?” Neil asked, a sad smile forming on his full lips. 

“Whichever one you want.” Automatic. True. Necessary. 

“Neil Josten,” Neil gave and spelled it aloud. “Formerly known as... Nathaniel Wesninski.”

_Right._

“Do you want to give us a rundown, Neil? Of what we’re doing in this very fine hotel room in Delaware?”

Neil’s smile widened just a bit at that. The tension in the air dissipated and Andrew’s finger that had been slightly twitching for what Andrew belatedly realized was a cigarette, stopped. Neil replied mockingly “Why, yes Andrew. It would be my pleasure. Currently,” he looked around, “on this mild, Delaware night, we’re holed up with shitty hot dogs and hiding from some of my father’s men who would like to kill me... and now, probably you too.”

Andrew pursed his lips, letting himself fall into this... _Whatever._ “Yeah, well,” Andrew said. “It’s not the first time someone’s wanted to kill me, I’m sure. Which of your father’s men are after us? And why do you think they care at all, seeing as how it’s been so many years?”

Neil shrugged and Andrew waved the recorder at him, reminding him that the audience couldn’t see. Neil rolled his eyes. “It’s Lola and I _think_ Romero - two of my father’s inner circle. I remember them both from when I was a kid, but they’re also the ones who chased my mother and I around when we were running. I don’t know why they still care...” He looked down at a loose string on his pants. “It’s just me now. My father is dead and I don’t have anything of value to them. I-” he took a deep breath. “My guess is, they just want revenge for his death or something, I don’t know - I just don’t see there being any other reason.”

_Okay. Alright. Okay..._

“What happened to your mother?” Neil locked eyes with Andrew. He knew the answer to this question - and that he _shouldn’t_ ask _._ But there needed to be context, bare bones, it didn’t matter. Just _context_. “You don’t have to answer any questions if you don’t want,” he said quietly. “I’m just asking things that are relevant to your story.”

Neil pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them. Andrew watched as he steeled himself with a deep breath and looked Andrew straight in the eye again. “She’s dead. She died in California after Lola shot her. I’ve been on my own since I was 17.”

“Hiding,” Andrew said, pushing through.

“Trying to. You’ve made it harder than it needed to be.”

Andrew didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. “I know.” he did know... And he hated it. “We’ll get more in depth when we’re in Palmetto.” That was a promise. Not for digging questions, but for them to reach Palmetto. For them to _make it._ “Right now, our plan is to head into Maryland tomorrow, right? And then Virginia?”

Neil moved on with him. He nodded, “That’s the plan.”

Andrew turned the recorder off. 

[ Record Off ]

“That’s all we’ll do for now,” Andrew murmured, “We’re both tired. We’ll sit down once we’re in the studio and do a proper interview.”

Neil just nodded. 

And that was it for the night. 

Andrew disconnected the fire alarm above the bed and they (Andrew) smoked through two cigarettes, before settling in.

They both laid down, each in one of the two beds in the room and listened to each other not sleep all night long. 

* * *

Neil got very little sleep. 

The last time he remembered checking the time and rolling over for the millionth time, it was 4AM. He’d fallen asleep at some point though, because his dreams were full of flames and gasoline and his mother _yelling -_

_What are you doing Nathaniel?! What’s wrong with you - Run!_

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he felt pretty okay about it, at the moment. 

They left the hotel early around 7AM so they could blend in with morning traffic. Lola was still in Delaware somewhere, Neil was sure. He just hoped they could get out without being noticed, first. 

They grabbed breakfast at a drive thru and topped the car off on their way out. They were both quiet - trying to be casual, but constantly checking their mirrors. 

Finally, two hours into the drive, they relaxed just a fraction and made it to Alexandria.  

“Do you think we’ve lost them?” Andrew asked. 

_Absolutely not._

Neil shook his head, “Honestly? No. Now, it’s just a matter of getting to a place where it’s hard for them to do anything. But, who knows. Maybe with the car switch, we’ve thrown them off.”

_Unlikely, Nathaniel._

Andrew looked over at him, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

_Not as stupid as he looks, Nathaniel._

“I am.”

Andrew snorted. “Wow, you must really like me,” he looked at Neil with a grin and Neil - he looked back with a straight face. Andrew cleared his throat and looked back to the road. “I’m going to take a turn in the game,” Andrew eventually said, rubbing behind his ear. 

“Okay,” Neil steeled himself for whatever Andrew may throw at him. 

“Why _did_ you keep the postcard...? Really? After you knew I wasn’t in California anymore, why bother? Was it really just... sentimental?” Andrew didn’t look at him while he asked, keeping his eyes glued firmly to the road. 

Neil thought about it for a moment. 

 _It was sentimental,_ he thought, honestly. Which seemed silly when he thought about it, for a kid who was never allowed to keep anything _ever_. But, it was more than that, too. 

Neil swallowed hard and he didn’t know why. He spoke truthfully and he didn’t know _why_ . “When I left you in that snack bar, when I found my mom and we left, I thought, _‘that’s the bravest kid I’ve ever met’._

Andrew did look at him then. “Oh, come on. That’s such a load of bullshit. You thought I was a weird asshole with a smart mouth, don’t lie.” There was a smile in his voice and Neil found it in himself to laugh. 

“That too, for sure. But... I don’t know. Listen,” he should’ve steeled himself more for this but - “A thing happened there, okay? I’m just going to say it, because I feel like we’ve been dancing around it,” ~~_don’t fucking say it -_ ~~ “but, there’s a fucking reason you felt the need to keep that promise. There’s a reason I’m in this car with you right now. And I knew there was _something_ going on that made you look like me.”

“Look like you?”

_Yes._

Neil went quiet and crossed his arms. He looked out his window and realized, he shouldn’t have gone there. They’d been doing a great fucking job of not delving too deep into this and -

“Hey,” Andrew said and Neil turned to look at him. “Don’t do that. Say what you were doing to say.”

Neil sighed and uncrossed his arms. “You looked like a kid that’d seen too much. Like -” he shook his head and went to bite his lip, but kept talking instead. “You’d _been through_ too much. I could tell... We matched, you and me. You can see it in that picture.” Neil wet his lips instead and wanted to look down, away, back to the window, anything. He kept his eyes on Andrew’s face. “But, you didn’t want to leave, You didn’t want to run away with me. I didn’t because I didn’t want to leave my mom, but you? You didn’t because you didn’t want anymore kids in that house... You were willing to sacrifice yourself so that no other kid went through what you did. That’s both so fucking stupid and the bravest thing any 12-year-old mind could comprehend. So... Yeah,” he nodded, I held on to that postcard because whenever I felt like giving up, or I was hurt, or when my mom died - I could look at it and think, _‘Andrew would keep going’_.”

_Too much, you’ve said too much._

Andrew didn’t respond. He kept his gaze on the road and then, finally, “What’s the reason then, that you’re in this car with me? Fate?”

Neil shrugged. “Maybe it _is_ fate. With all the shit that’s happened and where we’re sitting right now, do you really think this isn’t something that was meant to happen?

Andrew didn’t respond at all that time. 

* * *

 

They kept up a steady stream of distracting conversation for the time they were driving, and Andrew was surprised that it wasn’t hard. He didn’t know _why_ , since they’d had this before, but it was... nice. If there was a lull, it was comfortable and he only really ever had that with Renee. 

They were headed south towards North Carolina, but still using Neil’s evasive maneuvers to avoid detection. 

After driving circles around Richmond, they were quickly reminded that it was the 4th of July when they passed a celebration at a museum. 

Andrew started to park the car. 

“What are you doing?” Neil quickly asked. They hadn’t stopped or gotten out for anything besides gas and bathroom breaks. 

“Getting some funnel cake,” Andrew said like it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was. 

Andrew opened his door to get out and heard Neil quickly scoff behind him, scramble to unbuckle his belt, then opened his own door. “Are you crazy?!” he hissed over the hood as Andrew walked towards the festivities. “We have no idea if they’re still following us, and you’re just going to stroll around for some _funnel cake_?!”

Andrew stopped walking and turned around. Neil stood on the other side of the car, one hand still on the door and eyes darting around nervously. He made his way over and only stopped when he was right in front of Neil. “Have you ever _had_ funnel cake?”

“Well, _no_ , but-”

“This stop just became necessary to our trip,” Andrew said, with a shrug. He started to back away from Neil, beckoning him to follow. “It’s just funnel cake, jesus christ, kid. Live a little.”

The slow smile that bloomed on Neil’s face felt like triumph, and though this was most _certainly_ a stupid idea, Andrew turned around anyway to keep walking - smiling a little to himself when Neil caught up.  

“Okay. _Okay_ ,” Neil hissed when he was beside him. “But just... really quick. Then, we get back on the road. We probably need to switch cars soon.” He kept rubbing the back of his neck nervously, until Andrew gently pulled his arm down and squeezed his hand in both of his as he stopped for a second. 

~~_This is stupid, Andrew._ ~~

“We’re in a crowd of hundreds. If they’re following us, they already know we’re here. Alright? They’re not going to do anything with so many witnesses. If you really want to leave though, we can.” They could. They would, all Neil had to do was say the word. But Andrew, he just wanted to get Neil out of the car - wanted to get him in a spot where they weren’t both obsessively checking mirrors... Just for a moment. He wanted to pretend this was normal, _they_ were normal, and he could walk around normally with a man he liked. 

~~_Fuck._ ~~

Neil met Andrew’s eyes, took a deep breath and shook his head. Nonetheless, he squeezed Andrew’s hands back. “No,” he murmured. “It’s fine. You’re right, there are too many people here for them to do anything even if they were on our tail.”

Andrew nodded and dropped Neil’s hand. “Then let’s go.”

They stayed longer than they should’ve. Andrew knew that and he knew Neil did too, but neither had the strength at that moment to pull themselves way. Andrew got funnel cake and when Neil ate a few bites, he declared it was _‘just alright_ ’. They played a few games and Neil won a stuffed cat that looked remarkably like King when playing a game where he had to throw a ball through a hole ~~_which he did with scary precision._ ~~ Andrew rolled his eyes at the cat -

But still took it when Neil handed it to him with a dopey grin. 

They made their way back to the car sometime later, both laughing and feeling _content_ . Andrew had almost forgotten what was happening here - he almost forgot that they were running, that someone was trying to do them some serious _fucking_ harm.

Until they got to the car. 

Everything looked _normal_. Andrew pulled the keys out of his pocket and started to unlock the door, before Neil grabbed his arm. Andrew looked at him, brows furrowed and clear question in his eyes, before he saw Neil’s wide and staring at something on the windshield. 

It was a picture of an American flag with ‘ **Happy 4th of July!** ’ written across the front - along with a number **3** written over it in red. 

Andrew whipped his head around, searching the crowd. Neil was doing the same, while simultaneously pushing Andrew into the car. 

 _Idiot._ **_Idiot_. ** _Stupid, you fucking -_

“Go,” Neil said through his teeth, “Get in the car now and _go._ ’

Andrew stopped everything he was doing and stayed where he was. For a moment, they froze - Neil’s hands on Andrew’s shoulders, trying to get him into the driver’s seat and Andrew’s hands on Neil’s elbows, keeping himself steady. 

“ _No._ ” Andrew said firmly, then shook his arms slightly. Look at me,” Neil did. “Get in the car. We’re leaving _together_ right now and we’re going to switch cars as soon as we can, got it? We’re closer to Palmetto. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

Neil searched his eyes for a few seconds and Andrew watched as defeat flashed across his face. He nodded stiffly and Andrew let go of his arms, “Go get in.”

Once they were both in the car and Andrew had tucked the picture into the middle console to keep as evidence, he started the car and pulled his recorder out. He hit the button.

[ Record On ] 

“Why the fuck are you recording right now?” Neil asked and his voice only slightly shook. 

With a quick glance to make sure he was okay, Andrew replied, “Because shit’s happening and we need to document it.” He moved on. “Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten. We’re in Richmond, Virginia and we’ve had no incidents since the last, until now.” He put the keys into the ignition and looked to Neil. “How do you think they’ve been following us without us noticing?”

Neil shrugged, eyes bouncing _everywhere_. “Maybe they switched cars, too... I don’t know. They could’ve guessed the direction we were heading, I guess-” He rubbed his face and bent his head a little to look out the side mirror on his door. 

Andrew chewed his lip ring. “Maybe. So they left us a message with the number **3** on a 4th of July picture on the car when we got back to it. We’ll have to switch soon. Are we both in agreement about this? That this is a countdown?”

Neil audibly sighed and chewed on his lip, “I don’t know what else it could be...”

“So, what happens on day zero?”

Neil scoffed and pulled back his chin, but he looked everywhere that wasn’t Andrew. “My death? I don’t know about you... They probably want to kill you too, just to get rid of anyone with information.” Neil’s knee was bouncing in an agitated rhythm and Andrew slowly reached over. Neil gave his hand a glance, but didn’t stop him as Andrew placed it on his leg to stop it’s progress - squeezing a little before letting go. 

“Then we’ll just have to outrun them, won't we?” Andrew murmured, maybe too low for the recorder, but it was for _Neil_ , not the audience. He wanted _Neil_ to agree, willed him to so he could try and stop a panic attack before it could start. 

Then, after a few beats of heart pounding silence,

“I guess we will.”

[ Record Off ]

* * *

 

They’d spent too much time in Richmond. It was getting late and any rental place would be closed now. 

Neil was sure they were being watched. He didn’t know how they’d kept getting found, but in the end, he supposed it didn’t really matter. What _did_ , was that they didn’t get caught. 

Though, as it was, he was more nervous now, than he’d been the entire _trip_ , _escape_ , _whatever._ He didn’t know how that was possible, but there it was. He wouldn’t let Andrew keep going south towards North Carolina. Lola was insane, but she wasn’t stupid. At this point, she probably guessed they were going to South Carolina, but Neil didn’t want to make things any easier for her to figure out - just in case she _hadn’t_ gotten it yet. So, he made Andrew go to Roanoke. 

“Roanoke? Are you counting on all the ghosts to scare the bad guys away?”

Neil tore his eyes away to look over at Andrew. He decided to feed into this because, well, he needed it. “Ghosts? Does Roanoke have ghosts? Do you _believe_ in ghosts? The brave boy from the Grand Canyon, scared of the Virginian ghosts?” He couldn’t help but let himself grin. This wasn’t funny. Nothing _about_ this was funny. It was scary and fucked up and there was a very real possibility they might die.

But.

Andrew scoffed, “First of all, yes, according to a very legit internet article I read. Secondly, no. Thirdly, okay Mr. _‘maybe this is fate’._ ”

“Hey,” Neil _wanted_ to argue. “Fate isn’t the same as ghosts.” Because this was stupid and it was _distracting._

“You’re right,” Andrew said, very seriously. “It’s _worse_ . Someone could _maybe_ make a scientific case for ghosts - electromagnetic fields and blah, blah, blah. But there’s nothing to explain _fate_. That’s not a thing. That’s coincidence.”

Neil huffed. “You’re the most inconvenient fucking coincidence I’ve ever encountered.”

Andrew shrugged, “Ah. Maybe so. But, I’m also the best looking one,” Andrew said with a completely straight face as he checked the rearview once again. 

Neil shook his head.

_This fucking guy..._

“There you are, psycho,” Andrew muttered. 

Neil whipped around and sure enough, the black car was back - lagging behind them and giving plenty of room. They turned their headlights on though and Neil turned back around. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

Andrew pressed record.

[ Record On ]

“Get off the interstate,” Neil murmured quickly. “We’re in Roanoke and it’s getting dark. Maybe we can lose them.”

Andrew did. So did they.

Andrew sped up. So did they.

“What the fuck do they want?” Andrew hissed.

Neil wished he knew. 

~~_You do._ ~~

The black car sped up, coming right alongside Neil and Andrew. It swerved into their lane and Andrew cursed, quickly turning the wheel to avoid a wreck, and almost hit another car in the process.

“Fuck!” Neil said.

_This is getting out of control - this is too much, this -_

“Pull over!” Neil pointed. 

Andrew’s grip tightened on the wheel. “I’m not fucking pulling over. Is your seatbelt on?” Andrew sped up again in an attempt to get away, voice tight and restrained. 

“ _Andrew_ . Just fucking pull over and let me get out. It’s _me_ they want. They’ll leave you alone if they just have me -” Neil didn’t want to do this anymore. He couldn’t. He felt like he was using Andrew as a shield, and that was more than he could really take and -

“No. Hold on.”

_What-_

Andrew slammed on the brakes so that the black car sped ahead - he then sped up to get on their side instead. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and he had a white knuckle grip on the wheel. Quietly, he muttered to himself, “See how you like it, motherfuckers-”

He came up alongside Lola and Romero and moved quickly into their lane. Both cars rode side by side and with one hard jerk of the wheel, the rental slammed into the black car and forced it to run off the road. It tore through the grass and into the trees lining the road. 

Andrew didn’t hesitate. 

He floored it the fuck out of there.

* * *

 

“We need to stash the car and hide,” Andrew said. “Their reverse lights were on before we even made it out. We need to get off the road before they try to kill us or someone else...”

His adrenaline was out of control - heart pounding so hard against his ribs, he was sure he was going to pass out. 

“Fine,” Neil said, breathing shallowly. “Look,” he pointed, “There's a gas station with woods behind it. Stop there.”

Andrew pulled into the lot and went around back. He drove as far into the trees as he could and turned the car off. 

They sat there for a second, quiet but for the sound of their breaths and heartbeats invading the same. 

Eventually, “Are you okay?” Neil asked.

_No._

Andrew wasn’t okay. Not at all. 

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered, turning to look out the back window. “There’s a motel across the street. We can break into a room and hide out ‘til tomorrow.”

Andrew lifted a brow. “Break into a room? You know how to break into a room?”

_You fucking idiot. He was on the run for most of his life. Of course -_

Neil didn’t respond. He was pale, Andrew noted. Pale and his hands were shaking. Andrew turned in his seat and slid a hand to the back of Neil’s neck. “Breathe,” he said quietly. “We got away, just breathe.”

Neil, surprisingly, listened. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he finally nodded and they both exited the car - stopping to grab their bags. Andrew shoved the recorder into his pocket. 

They stood together for a moment at the edge of the wood, looking out. 

The street was quiet but for a few cars in front of the gas station. The motel across the street looked old and a bit rundown, all external doors ringing the parking lot. Behind, the woods stretched out and up following the foot of the mountain ridge until the top was lost in the night sky.

Neil held out a hand to Andrew. 

_What?_

Andrew looked down at it, then back to Neil. 

“You ready...?” He asked quietly. 

Andrew almost didn’t hear it - it was almost taken away by the light breeze that blew through, tousling Neil’s hair and -

He took Neil’s hand. “I’m ready.”

They ran for it. 

And only made it to the middle of the street, when a black car turned the corner and gunned for them. 

Neil was in front, pulling Andrew hard. “Run faster!” he yelled over his shoulder. 

“I’m fucking _trying-_ ” Andrew yelled back because he was, but _fuck_ , Neil was fast. 

They made it to the other side of the road, car still in pursuit, but Neil didn’t lead them to the hotel - no. Instead, he ran around the back and made for the trees and heavy underbrush. 

“What the fuck are we doing!?” Andrew hissed. He could see the black car. It pulled alongside the hotel and was shining it’s lights into the woods. 

“Just be quiet and follow me.” Neil tugged his hand again and Andrew did as told because what else would he fucking do?

Bee buzzed but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his ears - not for himself, but to _keep Neil safe._

Amidst it all, Andrew cracked the pinky on his other hand and gripped tighter to Neil. He wasn’t about to let go - not now ~~, _not e-_~~

A car door shut and they instinctively froze behind a tree, shoulder to shoulder and so afraid to make any noise that they barely breathed.  

“Nathaniel!” They heard a woman’s sing-song voice. “Come out, little lamb... You still have a few more days, dear. I’m not going to hurt you... Yet.” There was a smile, it floated through the air and around their tree. Andrew had never seen her before, but he could see it in his mind's eye now...

Neither of them said a thing. Their hands were clasped tight, almost to the point of pain and Andrew only held him tighter. 

“And poor little Andrew. Nathaniel, why would you put him through this? It’s not really _him_ we want, you know. But, you’ve made him a target... All grown up and still making stupid mistakes,” She tsk, tsk, _tsked_.

Andrew heard Neil suck in a breath and automatically try to let go of his hand, but Andrew didn’t let him. He crouched down as quietly as he could and grabbed the biggest rock he could find that was within arms reach. He stood back up and Neil looked at him quizzically as Andrew turned a bit, lifted his arm, and threw it as hard as he could diagonally up the slope and away from the hotel. 

“There,” they heard Lola say, and when they heard two sets of feet take off in the direction of the rock, Andrew and Neil bolted for the hotel. They bound up two flights of stairs, trying their damnedest not to pound on the concrete, and chose a room at random. 

“I need a card,” Neil said, nodding to the knob, “A credit card or something -”

Andrew let go of Neil’s hand and pulled out his wallet as fast as he could. He didn’t know how Neil was going to pull this off with a credit card - that lock looked pretty heavy - but he didn’t say anything. Neil took the card and did something with it Andrew couldn’t see. In just a few seconds, the door swung open and they both hurried in, shutting it as quietly as possible and doing up both locks. They dumped their bags and stood there in silence, breathing heavy and surveying the room; listening for Lola. 

It was a small space, with one queen sized bed in front of the window, a tiny bathroom, and an old box style TV.

They stayed by the door. 

It didn’t take long. 

_Clack, clack, clack_

The sound of heels slowly making their way up the stairs. It echoed in this concrete place and Neil let out a harsh breath. Andrew immediately yanked him to the other side of the bed and went to the ground, pulling Neil down beside him. 

 _Clack, clack, clack_ went Lola’s shoes, and _thump, thump, thump_ went Andrew’s heart, and _pant, pant, pant_ went Neil’s shaking breaths. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew whispered quietly into the thick air and Neil couldn’t manage to get any words out. Instead, he nodded his head in quick, obvious jerks, so Andrew put an arm around him and pulled him in close. 

He came easily, willingly, and buried his face in Andrew’s neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into Neil’s hair. “I’ve got you, it’s okay. She doesn’t know we’re here...”

_Clack, clack, clack -_

Lola was closer now, coming towards the room they were in. Andrew kept his face in Neil’s hair and Neil kept his pressed against Andrew’s neck, and when the shadow of a person standing at the window fell over the room, Neil let out a quiet, _‘fuck’_.

“Shhhh,” Andrew hushed quietly. 

They stayed perfectly still, neither daring to move. The heels moved and Andrew closed his eyes and squeezed Neil closer when they heard the handle to the room jiggle. 

_Not here, not now, not yet._

_We haven’t had enough_ **_time-_ **

They heard a man call to Lola, “Hey lady! Can I help you? That room is empty, you lookin’ to rent?”

“No, no,” She responded easily. “Just thought some friends were staying here. Guess I was wrong, I’m leaving now.” They heard Lola’s heels _clack_ away. 

Then, another man’s muffled voice, “Did you find them?”

“No. They may have run out of the other side of the wood and made for the bus station. Let’s check there.”

They didn’t relax until they heard a car start in the parking lot and pull away. 

But.

Neil’s face was still in Andrew’s neck. Andrew could feel his stuttering breath - could feel his lips there and he shuddered involuntarily, then cursed himself for it when Neil pulled away. 

They looked at each other for a moment, until Neil stared down at his hands that still shook with fear. 

“Let me go,” he whispered. “Just let me go on and you keep heading towards Palmetto. This is going to end badly, Andrew. You’re going to get hurt and-”

“Shut up,” Andrew cut him off. “I’ve already told you. We’re not fucking splitting up, period.”

Neil shook his head, sucking in air, and Andrew wrapped a hand back around his neck. 

Neil looked up and they locked eyes - honey and ice, gold and blue... Like the time in the snack shack, when they made that pinky promise and the intensity of it made his confused and wary 13-year-old heart _ache_ with the injustice of it all. 

He pulled Neil closer until their foreheads were pressed together, and he held up his pinky. Neil looked down at it for a moment, not moving his head from Andrew’s as he slowly lifted his own. Andrew wrapped his pinky around Neil’s, and slowly, Neil’s other hand came up to grip the back of Andrew’s head - to bury his fingers in his hair. 

Bee was silent, the air around them still, nothing existed but _Neil, Neil, Neil_ and, “I made you a promise,” Andrew said lowly. “I intend to keep it. It’s you and me now, okay? And when this is over, you can go wherever you want... but so long as they’re out there chasing the both of us, it’s you and me. Got it?"

Neil nodded in shaky jerks and squeezed his pinky tighter around Andrew’s. They were both breathing harshly - noses touching now, somehow.

And an irrational, stupid, _idiotic_ , and  _impulsive_ , part of Andrew’s brain thought how easy it would be... Just to move forward a bit more - just to press his lips against Neil’s and taste the same fear, desperation, and _want_ , that he knew was right on the tip of his tongue.

This fall was much scarier, Andrew thought, than the one in the Grand Canyon would’ve been. But maybe, ~~_that’s what made the jump worth it_ .  ~~

And Neil?

With eyes so wide and blue and _real_ \- he was the one to rub his nose against Andrew’s - just a bit. His lips, were so close, yet so far, and Andrew leaned forward. Neil didn’t pull away...

No, Neil-

_BOOM_

Light broke the static in the air, pushing them apart with a start as the _boom_ reverberated around the room and a flash of red brightened the space momentarily. 

“Fireworks-” Neil breathed, looking towards the window. 

Something then, _changed_ , _altered - whatever the fuck it was_ , because Neil looked back at Andrew and smiled, just a little. “Happy 4th of July, Andrew.”

And Andrew? His mind was blank but for an inconvenient _something_ taking up all his mental faculties. All he could manage to say as he stared at this _idiot_ was, “There’s no pie.”

“What?”

“It’s not the 4th without ice cream and pie,” he had no idea what he was talking about - no idea why he was talking about pie because...

What had he almost just done?

This was a panic attack - that’s all. Neil _and_ him. _Right._ Neil was scared and tried to leave and Andrew had almost...

_We were so close_

He ran his hands quickly through his hair and pushed himself to stand. 

_Get a fucking hold of yourself._

He mentally cursed himself, forced his mind to pull itself back together as he checked outside and closed the curtains. Flashing lights bloomed behind the flimsy material and washed the room in red, whites, and blues. 

“I’m going to shower,” Andrew said, working off auto-pilot. “Keep the lights off.”

Neil just nodded. Or maybe he didn’t... Andrew didn’t know and didn’t stick around to find out because -

_Because._

Once Andrew had showered and dressed and talked himself off the ledge, he picked up his clothes and found the recorder still on in his pocket. He quickly shut it off, before cursing himself one last time and walking out.

[ Record Off ]

The room was empty and just as he was about to completely lose his _fucking shit_ , Neil came back with a bag hanging from his hand from the front door. 

Andrew waited for him to set the locks, before he unloaded, “Where the fuck were you?! Are you insane?!”

Neil held up the bag and walked over to Andrew to shove it in his hands. “Pie and ice cream from the station across the street. It’s the 4th now.”

Neil stepped around him and made his way to the shower. 

Andrew felt one foot lift and hang surreptitiously over the edge of that precipice and -

_And._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the past few weeks, a lot has happened. As promised, I told you I was keeping information from you all and now I think it's time to start explaining things.  
> To start. Yes, I found Nathaniel.  
> But, I'm going to do this right, because some people don't want me doing it at all.  
> Here's part 1 of 2 - for anyone out there who may doubt me. Us. This story. There's plenty more where it came from.  
> Part 2 will explain things in more detail. Keep an eye out for it. It's coming soon.  
> \- A / N
> 
> \----------  
> Thank you all... so so much for reading. Like. Again We know we say this all the time, but fuck guys. Honestly the love shared on this fic still catches us off guard and renders us speechless. So thank you... Seriously. A million times, thank you.  
> Stay tuned for the next chapter. We're hoping to get it up by wednesday, but seriously, no promises. We'll try though. That one... it's gonna be tough, so wish us luck <3  
> Once again, you all mean so much to us and we're forever grateful! We hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!


	22. Audio Notes #6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message from Creators:  
> This ones heavy. We're not going to front or sugar coat it. It's heavy. It's most certainly a fucking hard one and we want you all to know that before getting into it. 
> 
> It will trigger some of you. I think if you made it through AFTG, you'll be fine. But it is graphic. And it is ugly. And it is not good. So, we've laid it out so you can skip, and you know exactly where it starts. If any of you need, you can most certainly message any of us on tumblr and we would be happy to either walk you through it or give you a small synopsis in least descriptive terms as possible to help you all through. Because it is completely understandable if any of you do not to read any of this.  
> Now, please understand, we're very big on putting characters through the least amount of trauma as possible when it is not. necessary. For the story, in order to make this shit make SENSE we needed to do it this way. Anything that happens to Andrew or Neil are done PURPOSELY and hopefully that will be clear. Please, please, please, just understand we hated writing this. We hated doing this to these characters and if we could avoid it, we would've. But in order to keep the integrity of this story and what exactly we're dealing with - as well as trying to keep with canon, some things needed to be changed and some things needed to happen.  
> Just know, the characters if you are keeping up with the website, then you know are. okay. We will fix this. We promise. Please trust us.  
> With that being said, here are the CWs:  
> Canon typical events falling in line with Lola & crew.  
> Blood  
> Minor gore  
> Violence  
> Car Accident  
> Fighting
> 
> You can skip ahead if you would like. When you reach [ Record On ] - REDACTED. You can jump back in at ****** Which are bold and a few paragraphs from the end. Read up from there and you'll find it. It's still graphic with mention of blood. But everything else is over.
> 
> But there is also fluff and a lot of good at the beginning of this chapter and a little bit of something at the end. We hope it doesn't feel too unbalanced and we're really sorry ahead of time. We promise, it's all for a purpose and we would NEVER do anything that would be unjustified or just for shits and fucking giggles. This isn't glorification. We hated doing it and we WILL, again, fix it. 
> 
> That's all we think.  
> Keep up on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/). A lot of fun, yes fun, is going down on there lately because we have a new member to the team. If you would like, go engage. We promise it'll cheer you up or it'll at least make some of this a bit... not okay. This cant be okay. But it'll ease the pain.  
> Also, there is no cliffhanger. We promise.  
> Anyway... Without anymore rambling, here is part 2.  
> \-----------------

Neil slept well. 

Which was fucked. 

He chalked it up to mental exhaustion from all the running and the fact that he and Andrew were almost killed. 

_Andrew-_

Speaking of, he opened his eyes slowly to see Andrew across from him, eyes already open and watching him.

He thought, maybe he should feel weird about them sleeping in the same bed ~~_for some reason_ ~~ ~~.~~ But, he didn’t. 

Andrew had tried to sleep on the floor, but Neil told him to stop being an idiot and get in the fucking bed already. Hotel room floors were disgusting and that was Neil’s reasoning. He didn’t really feel the need to mention that he didn’t want to feel alone in the room. 

Andrew tried to argue, and Neil thought he was probably still mad about the whole leaving the room thing while he was in the shower. But... He wasn’t _not_ careful. 

Careless, maybe. Stupid, certainly. Impulsive and -

Neil _had_ peeked through the curtains to see the fireworks. He was met by people setting them off in the parking lot of the hotel. Across the street, more people had arrived, just hanging out and watching. It would be safe _enough._

Neil had chewed his lips, still shaken of course - but it wasn’t even because of Lola. It was because what had almost happened with Andrew and... Maybe _that_ was why. He didn’t fucking know because, well, he had no experience with any of this. All he knew was that he’d been perfectly happy living his life never having felt anything for anyone and now, all of a sudden.

He just thought that there was _something_ . That they were moving _towards_ something, but... maybe he was wrong. 

And _maybe_ it was ridiculous to even contemplate something so frivolous when they were literally in the midst of running for their lives. 

Neil was antsy about _that_ , yes. He listened to make sure he still heard the shower running, took the card he’d used to break into the room in the first place, and made his way to the gas station across the street, by tagging onto the end of a group of teenagers headed that way. He was pretty confident Lola and Romero left anyway to check the bus station and honestly?

If they got him, they got him.

At least Andrew wasn’t with him and Neil would get what he’d wanted this whole time. 

To keep Andrew out of this. 

_You’re so stupid, Nathaniel._

She was right. He was. But nothing happened - nothing _bad_ happened. 

He was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. 

And now? He opened his eyes to Andrew watching him, and despite the fear and danger and the almost... _something_ , he smiled. 

“Hey, stalker.”

Andrew immediately rolled his eyes and sat up in bed. Neil rolled over onto his back and watched him stretch. Andrew rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his unruly hair, then reached over and put his glasses on. He looked back at Neil. 

“Should we go? Or wait?”

Neil sat up next to him, thinking with squinted eyes around the bare room. Realistically, Lola was probably still here. It was a very real possibility that when she didn’t find them at the bus station, she swung back around to the hotel. Neil, if he were them, would do that. So, he got out of the bed to see if he could confirm his hunch, but as he peeked out the window there were no signs of the black car.

Nonetheless, unease still riled in his stomach. 

“I think we should stay... At least for a little while,” Neil started, backing away from the window and turning towards Andrew. “Preferably until night. We’re not that far now, from South Carolina. She’s going to be pissed that she missed us last night.”

Andrew nodded slowly and with a sigh agreed, “Okay. So, we stay.”

They did. For the rest of the day, they kept the curtains closed and lived off the little food Neil had bought from the gas station the night before. In between shushing each other to make sure no one was coming to occupy the ‘vacant’ room and peeking out to the lot for the black car, they watched Netflix on Andrew’s computer with a pair of airpods shared between them (just in case). 

By evening, Andrew was both hungry and bored - which was a dangerous combination. He paced the room, going through his burner phone and muttering to himself about coffee for at least ten minutes, before Neil finally said from his spot on the bed, “Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.” Andrew threw him a glare and Neil rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s play. You can have the first question.”

Andrew sighed dramatically and sat on the edge of the bed with his head bowed. Neil could see him thinking as he pulled at a thread in the cheap blanket, and mentally prepared himself for whatever hard hitting question must be coming. 

Instead, “What’s your favorite color?”

Neil blinked, “What? _That’s_ your question?”

Andrew lifted his head and deadpanned, “Yes.”

 _He’s so-_ “Fine. Um... Gray. I like gray.”

Andrew looked at him like he was insane. “Gray?” He pulled back his chin and shook his head, “That’s not even a fucking color! It’s like... a non-color.”

“Okay, Mr. _‘I wear black because it matches my soul’._ ”

“I wear black so my enemies can't see the blood.” The response was quick, practiced. Neil found it amusing. “My favorite is purple.”

 _Purple._ The purple pen and piercings - it made sense. “Why purple?”

“It’s the gayest color,” Andrew shrugged off-handedly. “When are we leaving?”

It was finally getting dark outside. Neil stood and headed towards the window, but just as he looked out, his fingers clutched the curtains. 

“Fuck-” he whispered. “Not right now, apparently...”

Andrew came to join him and they both watched the black car pull into the lot and park beneath them. Both car doors opened and Andrew pulled out his phone. From beside him, Andrew snapped pictures as Lola and Romero got out of the car, stopping at the trunk to grab bags, and headed towards a room directly under them. “Do you think they know we’re here...?” he murmured quietly. 

Neil shook his head and willed his heart to stop beating bruises into his chest. “I have no idea,” he may have said. With a deep breath however and forcing himself to let go of the curtains, Neil got a hold of himself and said clearer, “But, we can't leave now. We’re going to have to wait until they’re gone.” He turned back around to press his back against the wall. “We have to stay. We’ll leave in the middle of the night, a bit later... when they’re likely asleep.”

Andrew dropped the curtain, too. “Right...” Then nodded and headed towards the bed. “I’m going to sleep if we’re going to have to drive at an ungodly hour.” Neil just nodded and closed his eyes, sliding down the wall so he sat on the floor. He listened as Andrew pulled back the blankets and got in - listened as he punched the pillow a few times and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, then finally settle. 

When Neil opened his eyes again, Andrew was still. He turned his attention to the window and peered out of the crack in the curtains.

* * *

 

When Andrew woke up and checked the time, it was 3AM. Neil wasn’t next to him in the bed and Andrew immediately shot up, panic taking hold for a moment before he caught sight of him on the ground next to the window - head against the wall and eyes closed. It looked like he’d been keeping watch all night. 

Andrew got out of bed and gently nudged his shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly. Neil startled, eyes snapping open and breath caught, but calmed as soon as he saw it was Andrew. 

_That’s nothing._

“It’s 3AM. We should go,” he kept his voice low and Neil nodded.

They slowly and sleepily gathered their things. Andrew slipped his sneakers on and lamented the loss of his boots for a moment (he still had them. They were in the car, but he hadn’t worn them this trip. They weren’t exactly very good for making a quick getaway). 

They stood at the hotel door for a moment, listening with their ears pressed against it for any movement. When they detected nothing, their eyes locked and Andrew gave the final nod. Very quietly, they made their way out of the room and down the concrete stairs. The air, though early, was cool and wet with morning dew. Andrew could see the black car in the lot parked against some bushes across from the room Lola and Romero had disappeared into. Andrew stopped, because he was careless and stupid, and looked at the car for a moment.

_Because I’m careless and stupid._

It was too tempting. 

He couldn’t break into it - there’s no way there wasn’t a loud alarm. He didn’t know if he’d be able to jimmy open the hood either. So, instead he quietly and swiftly made his way across the lot, Neil quickly following, and hid himself behind another line of bushes to crouch where he wouldn’t be seen. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Neil hissed. “We need to go-”

“Their car is right there!” Andrew hissed right back. “We can’t just ignore it,” he mumbled, searching the ground for _something._ He moved down the row of bushes until he found what he was looking for. A glass beer bottle. 

He grinned a little at the predictability of American’s celebrating the 4th with explosives and alcohol. He pulled a shirt quickly out of his bag and broke the bottle on the curb. Picking through, he chose the biggest piece and wrapped the shirt around it’s base before making his way to the car, staying low. He could hear Neil having a heart attack from the bushes, but promptly ignored him as he proceeded to slash each one of the tires and watch them deflate in satisfaction. Once he was finished, he threw the glass to the side and made his way back to Neil. 

“Let’s go.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

“Did... did you just slash their tires?” One of Neil’s brows rose and he let out what could only be described as a _giggle_. It made Andrew grin. “Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that?” He pulled back his chin. 

“Why are you so surprised?” Andrew asked. “I’ve been slashing tires for the fun of it since I was 9.” He watched Neil roll his eyes and motion towards himself. 

“Yeah, well. I’m the runaway.” 

_True._

_Anyway._

“Come on, we need to hurry.”

They jogged across the empty road and made their way behind the closed gas station to where their rental was still waiting just beyond a line of trees. Throwing their bags into the backseat, they got in ~~not without checking over their shoulders first **.**~~

“We won’t be able to change cars for a while,” Andrew said once the doors were closed and keys in the ignition. “Everywhere will be closed.” 

Neil just nodded. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

They stopped a couple of hours later to go through a drive through. Rather than continue driving, they took a small break to eat, on the account that it would likely take a bit for Lola and Romero to catch up with them. Neil took a bit of solace in that as he watched Andrew dump an obscene amount of sugar in his coffee and after taking a long sip mumble, “Fuck, I needed that...”

Neil took a sip of his own black coffee. “I’ll look where the nearest rental car place is. Maybe they’ll be open by now,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

Andrew nodded and after a beat of silence, “I’m taking a turn.”

When Neil didn’t say anything, Andrew continued. “What do you think about going straight to the FBI?”

Neil did look at him then. “Are you insane?”

~~_Yes. He is, Nathaniel. And you’ve put your trust in him -_ ~~

_No._

“Just listen,” Andrew sighed. “I don’t trust those fuckers either. Believe me. But, maybe if we go in unannounced, we’ll get someone who has no ties to your father or the Moriyamas... We can give them info. It’s why I’ve been recording _and_ ,” he pulled out his own phone, flicking through it momentarily before he held it up for Neil to see. “I have pictures of Lola at the hotel.” He dropped his phone into the cup holder between them and opened the middle compartment. “The 4th of July card.” He nodded his chin in it’s direction, then snapped the compartment shut. “ _Maybe_ they’ll make a trade for information. And if they _don’t_ ,” Andrew leveled his eyes to rest solely on Neil’s face, “then fuck ‘em. We get the hell out of there and keep thwarting death.”

Neil stared at him and stared at him hard. His eyes stayed focused on Andrew’s as he tried to gauge what _exactly_ it was that he was saying, before he finally shook his head with a sigh. “They could take me in. I told you. They could take me in just for being Neil Josten.”

“But they _won’t._ ” Andrew leaned towards him just a bit. The look he gave Neil was strong and unrelenting. “I have a social media presence. I have a _podcast_. And I know that sounds like jackall, but I need you to trust me. I’ll blast this shit everywhere and let them fucking know it.” 

When Neil kept shaking his head, Andrew sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. 

“Neil,” he started. “She’s going to keep chasing us. We’ve slowed them down, _yes_ , but we don’t know for how long and she’s probably already guessed where we’re headed. This? Going to the FBI, will throw her off. Maybe make her back off a little-” He shrugged his shoulders and Neil could see any ‘hope’ Andrew may have felt, start to leave. But Neil couldn’t lie to him, he couldn’t tell him what he might have wanted to hear...

“You don’t know Lola,” Neil murmured and felt those words ring true with every fiber of his _fucking_ being. 

“No.” Andrew said directly after. “No, I don’t. But I know you,” Andrew looked back at him and _something -_ “And I know me. And I think we both know this has to end somehow and we need someone on our side for that to happen. For us to be able to - for _you_ to be able to live a normal life.”

_Us, us, us_

Neil had to tear his eyes away from Andrew’s unrelenting stare and look out the windshield. There was _something_ tight bundled in the pit of his stomach and he forced himself to ignore it. He _had_ to. His mother’s voice tried to pierce the mental shield he was currently reinforcing as he tried to think logically because - 

Was this even possible...? He always just assumed he’d never be able to live a normal life - so was _this_ , was what Andrew was saying possible? Could he go to Palmetto and... stay?

“Fine,” Neil murmured quietly, the words past his lips before he could stop them or take him back. _I don’t want to._ “Fine. We’ll try. But,” He took a deep breath, “If they don’t listen, we get the fuck out.” He looked to Andrew. 

Andrew gave him a firm nod in return as something familiar _cracked_ in the air. 

Andrew put the car in reverse. 

* * *

 

They were just outside Columbia, in a new rental car, when Andrew pulled his recorder out. He hit record. 

[ Record On ]

“So,” He started, glancing to Neil. “We had a close call yesterday.” _Understatement._ “Lola almost had us in Roanoke. Chased us through the woods behind a hotel. But, apparently, we’re indestructible.”

Neil gave a short laugh, “Sure, whatever you say.”

Andrew liked that. Not whatever he said, but the feeling that sparked inside him when Neil smiled or laughed or anything really. He pushed on. 

“We haven’t seen her today since we’ve been on the road. We’ve also decided to go to the FBI before we head home to Palmetto. Lola is on the most wanted list and we’re going to see if they’d like some help in finding her.”

It may have been a stupid idea, Andrew knew that. It wasn’t foolproof, nor did he think it would _actually_ work. But it was all he had and unfortunately, their choices were being quickly stripped from them. Not to mention,

_Times running out._

Neil stayed quiet and Andrew looked over at him. His eyes were tense, something straining in his look as he pulled at the string on his pants Andrew had seen him messing with before. Playing with his lip ring, Andrew ran his thumb over the surface of the recorder and gathered enough strength to say, “I think... I think we should talk about how we met.”

Neil lifted his head and their eyes locked. “Why? Why now...?” His eyes dipped to the recorder, then back up at Andrew. 

“I want the story out,” he started. “I’m going to release these notes, and this entire thing will make more sense if we tell them what happened.” 

Neil hesitated. The tension in the car started to grow, become tighter, thicker, and it didn’t leave when Neil finally nodded and murmured, “Okay...”

Andrew took a deep breath, trying to force some air in as he too, nodded. This was something he hadn’t planned on sharing with anyone - not Bee, not Renee, not the entire fucking world. But, one was already down and again, their choices were becoming limited. It had to be done despite how this _secret_ , this _promise_ , seemed to be the only thing that held him together sometimes... Knowing that someone else out there _understood_ , that **_Alex_** _Neil_ understood.

Now, everyone would. 

Neil was hesitant too, he understood, he got it - so strongly that he had to take a second to gather his thoughts, before deciding to just let, “you start,” he said quietly. “Tell me about the first time we met.”

Cowardice. Journalistic skills. He didn’t know. 

Andrew turned his eyes towards the road, but he could see Neil gazing at him from his periphery. 

He wet his lips. Then began, “We first met when I was 12 years-old and on the run with my mom. You were 13, but would be 14 soon and you were sure to let me know.” Andrew looked over. That tightness in his stomach started to rise to his chest and dissipate. The tension in the car eased and he wanted to use his thumb to wipe away the grin growing in the corner of Neil’s lips. 

_I don’t know how you do it._

~~_Do what?_ ~~

Andrew responded with what would be expected - sarcasm. “Yes, well. 14 is infinitely old and experienced.” 

Neil hummed in agreement and all of a sudden, this felt _okay._ “Of course, of course,” then moved on. “We hid out together in a closed snack bar and you forced me to eat skittles and listen to you curse like a sailor. It was truly tragic for my young, innocent mind.”

“You needed some education,” Andrew explained. “So, we met that day and in the midst of our conversation we...” ~~_Don’t-_ ~~ “Forged a sort of bond I guess. Does that sound right to you...?”

_No._

~~_Yes._ ~~

_No._ It _didn’t_ sound right to _Andrew_. Why?

Because it was more than that and he fucking knew it. He just didn’t know how to say it without sounding like the _psycho_ everyone believed him to be.

However, Neil hesitated too and Andrew thought, for just a second, that maybe it didn’t sound right to him either. Nonetheless, “Yeah, that’s right. We both had...” Neil looked to Andrew again, like he was thinking how to word whatever he was about to say. “issues growing up. So we talked about our fucked up childhoods and... yeah. It was nice.”

_It was nice._

Andrew chewed on his lip ring. “It was nice,” he agreed. “So, in the midst of this conversation, we made a promise. What was it, from your point of view...?”

Neil replied faster than Andrew expected. It was automatic, it was comforting... in a way. “That we would help each other, if ever able - we would help the other get out. Get away.”

_And here we are._

Andrew nodded slowly and admitted, “And now, while I realize my methods were less than ideal,” Neil grunted his agreement. “That’s what this whole investigation has been about. Once I realized you were Nathaniel, I had to do something to help. So, that’s what I’ve been trying to do...”

“And I’ve been letting you, because I love to punish myself.”

Andrew laughed and it was sudden and it felt _good_. “I suppose you do.”

He turned the recorder off. The agency was down the street, but he pulled them into a nearby iHop. 

[ Record Off ]

“What are we doing here?” Neil asked. 

“Refueling before we have to deal with the pigs,” Andrew mumbled. He unbuckled, then reached for his bag in the backseat. Pulling out his laptop he explained, “I also want to send these audio notes to Seth, just in case.”

A pause. 

Then, “In case what?”

Andrew took a deep breath, “In case the feds decide to hold us, or hand us over to the fucks we’re running from.” He thought it was probably unlikely, but he wasn’t about to take any risks. 

Once they were seated and Andrew had ordered his normal stuffed french toast and bacon, he opened his laptop, plugged his recorder in, and transferred the files over. While they waited for them to upload, he opened his email to start one to Seth, when he saw one from what looked like a bunch of random letters and numbers. He opened it. 

And forced himself to roll his eyes. 

_‘2, 1, little lamb. You’re out of time, no matter how well you think you hide.’_

He deleted it immediately, but not before Neil caught the look he’d desperately tried to hide from his face. 

“What?” Neil asked. 

“Nothing important,” Andrew sighed. “Just Lola emailing me her little countdown. She sure is dramatic.” He was glad Neil couldn’t see the slight shake in his hands from over the top of his computer. He could compose his face, but everything else?

Well.

“Nothing important?” Neil said, incredulous. “She’s still chasing us-”

“Yeah, well. We knew that already.” Neil shook his head and Andrew forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He dragged the files to the email to Seth 

_‘If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours, post these. -A’_

He shut the laptop just as food came. They ate in silence and this time, it was heavy with what was to come - the FBI and, possibly, Lola. ~~_No._ ~~

Andrew paid, led them to the car, drove them to the FBI Headquarters, and parked the car. Taking off his seatbelt, he lifted his hips and removed the recorder again. This time, he held it up for Neil to see and surprisingly, Neil nodded.  With a nod of his own, Andrew thought _insurance, security, safety,_ ~~ _and Neil_~~ before he hit the button. 

[ Record On ]

He broke the silence.

“Are you ready?”

* * *

 

Neil didn’t respond immediately. He wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not really. 

He’d spent his life running - not just from his father’s men, but from these men, too. His mother always assumed that his father and the Moriyama's had some sort of connection to law enforcement, and as a result, had planted a seed of distrust so deeply in Neil, he was having a hard time remembering why he agreed to this in the first place. 

Andrew stayed quiet, let him gather his thoughts and courage. Neil must’ve closed his eyes without realizing it; fallen into that _space_ without feeling it, because one minute there was sun in his eyes and the next everything was black with a hand on the back of his neck. It was warm and it was strong and Neil let out a deep sigh because it was good and safe and _and and and_ he felt himself melt into the touch like he was helpless against it. ~~_I am_ ~~ ~~.~~ He let the warmth work it’s way through his body, to the tips of his fingers where it chased away the tingling numbness he’d only just realized had begun. 

When he opened his eyes, it was to find Andrew studying him. It wasn’t an invasive look, or a searching one. It was understanding and real and _familiar._ Neil finally found the strength to nod and Andrew slowly removed his hand. 

Together, they got out of the car and headed for the front of the building. 

 _It’s ugly_ , which was Neil’s first thought. He didn’t know what his mother’s opinion would’ve been. She was remarkably silent and he relished in the quiet as he judged the massive brick structure and it’s long, skinny windows. He thought, for a moment, that it looked like the agency was glaring at him.

_They probably were._

There were flags billowing in the muggy South Carolinian summer, with the American flag standing taller than the others in the middle - like a giant middle finger waving in their direction. 

They walked to the front door and Andrew reached a hand to open it, only to find it wouldn’t budge. He tried again and nothing. Then, common sense dawned on Neil like an anvil. 

“It’s Saturday,” he said, putting his hands over his face and laughing. “The offices aren’t going to be open on Saturday-” all this fucking anxiety for nothing.

Andrew shook his head and gestured to the building, “No. No, fuck that. This is the FBI and though they do fuckall, they don’t just take days off...” he pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the door. He watched Andrew press a bunch of numbers for an automated menu, before he finally got a person on the line and put it on speaker.

 _Not only for me, but for the recording too._  

_‘FBI Columbia, is this an emergency?’_

“It will be if we don’t talk to someone immediately,” Andrew answered, glaring at the phone. 

_‘If this is an emergency, you need to hang up and call 911.’_

“We have information on someone on the most wanted list. We need to speak to an agent immediately.”

‘ _Please give me your name and number, and I’ll have someone contact you.’_

No, that wouldn’t do. He could see it written all over Andrew’s face as he quickly looked up at Neil, then back down at the phone. 

“Mm. Doesn’t work for us. We’re here at the office. The parking lot is full of cars and I know people are here. Send someone to unlock the door and let us talk to someone, before our shit goes stale.” 

_That’s one way to say it._

The person on the other line sighed a long suffering sigh and said, firmer, _‘Sir, to whom is this information regarding?’_

Andrew gave him one last look, one last chance. Neil nodded before anything could tell him not to and watched as Andrew’s eyes steeled over. 

“Nathaniel Wesninski and Nathan Wesninski’s inner circle.”

The silence on the other time gave Neil enough time to bite into his lower lip and force himself to keep his eyes open. This was no time to panic. He’d already agreed and this was important. No.

_This was survival._

_‘Hold please,’_ the woman finally said. 

Andrew looked up at Neil and Neil couldn’t hide the trepidation there ~~_didn’t want to_ ~~ ~~.~~ Andrew’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and his hand rose for a moment - to do _what_ Neil didn’t know. 

He was stopped when the woman came back, _‘Someone will be down shortly.’_

Andrew tore his eyes away, dropped his hand and replied a quick, “Thank you _so_ much,” with a faux sweetness, before hanging up. 

Five minutes later, a nondescript looking man of average height and average weight and average hair and eyes opened the door, eyeing the two of them closely. 

Neil glared and heard a _crack_ beside him. Turning his eyes, he saw Andrew’s pinky pressed underneath his thumb. When he lifted them, Andrew’s eyes were set forward on the man as he led them into the agency, past a reception area, and to an elevator. Neil counted the floors out of habit and got to _six_ before they were let out and escorted to a non-descript room. There was a table with a few chairs around it - not _exactly_ an interrogation room, but not a cozy office either. 

“I’m Detective Browning,” the man finally introduced himself, holding out a hand. Neither of them took it. He raised his brows and dropped it, shoving both into his pockets. “I understand you have information regarding the Wesninskis?”

"Yes,” Andrew said, simply. 

Browning pulled a legal pen and pad out of a nearby table and gestured for Neil and Andrew to sit. Neil seriously considered refusing the offer, but Andrew moved forward and Neil decided to follow his lead

_Because_

“Can I have your names?”

Neil forced himself not to pull his chair closer to Andrew’s and sat stiffly at it’s edge. 

Andrew replied, monotoned, stiff, _Asshole-Minyard_ , “I’m Andrew Minyard. I have a podcast called Red Rabbits, that deals with the disappearance of Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski. This past week, two of Nathan’s inner circle, Lola and Romero, have been chasing us and according to Lola, trying to kill us. I have evidence.”

Neil kept his eyes on the table. He knew Andrew was talking more than necessary in order to keep the attention off him ~~_he didn’t know how he knew_ ~~ ~~,~~ but he _also_ knew it wouldn’t last long. 

The detective was writing something down silently and Neil dared a glance up. Browning met his eyes. 

“And you?” He asked with a gesture of his pen, “Your name?”

Neil looked over to Andrew who stared blankly at him. He wished he would reach out - that he would show that _something_. Neil thought about doing it himself, reaching a hand over to see if Andrew would take it, but he didn’t. 

“Hey,” Browning said, rudely. “I’m the one asking you questions, not him. Look at me. What’s your name?”

Neil looked back and clenched his teeth so hard he heard his jaw creak. “Nathaniel Wesninski.”

Browning blinked at him a few times before a cruel smile changed his face from average, to severely punchable. 

“Nathaniel Wesninski is dead. Nice try,” his eyes squinted and Neil, for a moment, thought they looked - _no._

He felt anger start to boil in his stomach, hot and slimy. It rose up, _up, up_ until it clawed up his throat and, well, from there he couldn’t hold it back. “Yeah? What evidence do you have that _he’s_ dead? Cant be very much, whatever it is, because I’m sitting right _fucking_ here.”

“Watch your tone with me,” Browning growled. “I’ve worked the Wesninski case. Mary and Nathaniel have been missing for _15_ years. Bones washed up on a beach in California-”

“Those were my _mother’s_ bones,” Neil seethed through his teeth, leaning forward across the table. “Tell me, _detective_ , what did you do with them? Are they sitting in evidence somewhere? Or, did you just toss them out with the trash?”

Andrew shifted just enough so that his foot was against Neil’s and Neil was immediately thankful for the reminder. He wasn’t alone here. No. He had _Andrew_. 

“How am I supposed to prove who you say you are?” Browning asked almost mockingly.

“Listen,” Andrew cut in. “Even if he’s not Nathaniel, it doesn’t change the fact that we have two of Nathan’s inner circle after us and ready to fucking kill us. I _know_ you have Lola on the most wanted list just to keep up appearances, and that you probably haven’t been looking for her at all because-” Andrew huffed a laugh, “Why the fuck would you with all the _fuckall_ you do. But, think what great things it’ll do for _you_ to be the one to bring her in.”

_He’s not as dumb as he looks, Nathaniel._

Right. 

Browning looked at Andrew contemplatively. Neil forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Browning as he thought for a second that the detective would take the bait.

He didn’t. 

“Again, nice try,” Browning said sarcastically, nodding his head and gathering his hands in his lap as he sat back. “Why don’t you just hand over what you _believe_ this evidence is, and we’ll call you.”

_I knew it-_

Neil glanced at Andrew from the corner of his eye and saw Andrew lick his lips and smirk slowly. With a deep breath, he nodded his head and mimicked Brownings pose, sinking down in his chair and pressing his foot harder against Neil’s. Neil wondered what the hell he must’ve been thinking. He didn’t have to wonder or worry long because -

“You think we’re going to just give you everything we have... so you can destroy it and pretend you have no idea what we’re talking about - like you’ve _been_ doing with this case for the last... 15 years? Mm. No.” He inhaled a quick breath and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought maybe we’d find someone here who wasn’t under the thumb of someone else. Guess I was wrong.” Andrew stood and like a pull, Neil made to follow. He wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. 

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Browning asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

_Don’t do it._

This time it wasn’t his mother's voice, but his own. A subconscious sort of thing ringing in his mind, warning him -

He didn’t listen. Rather than walk around the table, he turned towards _Detective Browning_ and placed his hands on the top. “He’s suggesting you’re a lackey and that this was a major mistake to assume we’d find help amongst people who let my mother and I live a life of running, and fear, and hunger, and constant danger. You and your,” he air quoted, “‘people’ did nothing to find or help us. So, why in the _fuck_ would you start now?” 

With brows furrowed, Neil stood straight and turned, leaving the room with Andrew on his heels. Browning tried to call them back once, but they kept moving. 

Once they were outside, even the humid southern air calmed him as he ripped the car door open as soon as Andrew unlocked it. He was sucking down deep breaths and heard Andrew doing the same as he reached into the middle compartment and took out the pack of cigarettes they’d been steadily working their way through. Andrew took no time in taking two out, lighting both of them, and handing one to Neil. 

After his first long drag, he was the first to break the silence with, “Well, that was bullshit-”

Neil cupped the cigarette close to his face and breathed in the smoke as he closed his eyes and nodded with a mumble, “I don’t know why we hoped for anything different.”

Andrew only grunted in return as he propped his cigarette between his lips and put the keys in the ignition. As the engine groaned beneath them, Andrew groaned with it with a disgusted look on his face as he reversed out of the lot. 

“Let’s go home,” He said much quieter. “I miss my fucking cat.”

 _Home_. 

It was Andrew’s home, not Neil’s. He refused to let himself hope he could have a life _here_. Especially now. But...

But he still couldn’t help but imagine how it would be - living there, having Andrew (as a friend, of course). Midnight smokes and their cats. Maybe even meeting the others that work on the podcast and becoming friends with them too.

_Kevin._

Neil just fucking remembered _Kevin Day_ would be there too. He couldn’t imagine how that face to face would go. 

_Anyway._

“Yeah,” Neil murmured, rolling down his window. “Let’s go home.”

[ Record Off ]

* * *

 

Andrew had called Renee when they were near Palmetto to let her know they were on their way, but he wanted to stop at his apartment first to grab a couple of things. Then, and only then, would they head to the studio to meet with everyone and fill them in. 

As they drove, there had been no more word or sign of Lola. Andrew hoped she was still mourning her slashed tires. 

After his cigarette had finally burned down and he resisted from smoking another, he had time to absorb what had happened back at the agency. He was annoyed, yes, but not _surprised_ at the reaction. It was a long shot, he knew, but he at least thought if they could get someone to listen, maybe they could end this thing before it got out of hand. _Apparently_ , that was too much to ask. And _maybe_ that was okay. Because Andrew was going to fix this entire fucking thing.

_No matter what._

The drive from Columbia to Palmetto was one he’d driven a million times. However, this time felt different. It was longer. It was quiet. And the closer they got, the more disbelieving Andrew felt. 

Neil was here with him. And Andrew? Andrew was bringing him _home_. 

~~_His home, yes. But home nonetheless, right?_ ~~

They pulled up to Andrew’s apartment building and got their bags out of the car, before heading up the stairs. Andrew lived on the fourth floor, second door to the right. The hallway still looked the same as ever, but his door itself looked different. There was no dust, no dirt or anything, but it had the look of something _undisturbed_. 

With a deep breath Andrew didn’t realize he’d been holding, he unlocked the door with the intent to just walk in and get his shit. However, it was open, he stared inside for a good long second. The sun streamed through the balcony doors and dust did, in fact, hang in the air. It danced in the light and Andrew pressed his lips together. 

_At least no one had been in here._

~~_That I know of._ ~~

_Quiet and stuffy, no footsteps or King paws or -_

Neil poked him in the back, “It’s just your apartment, Andrew...”

Andrew forced himself to roll his eyes and finally step inside. He heard Neil close the door behind him and the distinct _click_ of a lock echo in his semi-empty apartment. Walking through the short hall, it opened into his bare living room and small, but open kitchen. Andrew dropped his bags by one of the boxes acting as a side table next to the couch, then threw his keys on the kitchen counter. On the way, he flipped on lights and turned the AC down. He would’ve opened the balcony doors to circulate stale air, but he didn’t trust it. Turning, he pulled out one of the bar stools and sat down with a heavy sigh. 

“Nice digs,” Neil said, smirk in his voice as he sat beside him. 

Andrew felt his lips twitch and he turned his head to look at Neil. “Oh? My finely furnished home?” He motioned to the boxes stacked against the wall with his dozens of books, to the single couch and ikea coffee table, the nearly bare kitchen. “Nothing compared to your place but... It’s home, I guess.” Something about that word felt wrong. This apartment had never _really_ become home. He didn’t think he’d spent one day here. Nights? Sure. But a day? Andrew pressed his lips together and shut whatever idle part of his mind said this could _be_ a proper home and instead, focused on Neil’s traveling gaze. 

“Why do you have so much cereal?” He asked, nodding his chin to the top of the fridge where there were seven different boxes lined up. Andrew followed his look and shrugged. 

“I like choices.” Plain. Simple. Uncomplicated and true. 

_I need a shower._

Tapping his hand on the counter, Andrew slid off the stool and said as he walked around the island, “I’m going to go shower and change. You’re welcome to do the same after me, if you want.”

Neil just nodded and rather than linger, Andrew made his way to the ensuite bathroom. 

He hadn’t been home in so long, but something about being able to shower in his own shower and shave in his own bathroom and change out a few _fucking_ piercings was calming - normal. 

_I don’t know what normal is anymore._

The investigation had turned into his new normal. It had been his _life_ for the past few months ~~_I don’t even know how long it’s been, anymore_ ~~ ~~.~~ He didn’t know where the podcast was going to go from here, what _he_ was going to do. Would he survive until tomorrow? Monday? Will he see next week and will Neil be there with him?

When he was finished, he came out of the bathroom which opened directly into his bedroom and froze when he saw Neil standing there. He was only in a towel - no bands or anything - and while that didn’t necessarily _bother_ him ~~he didn’t know why, _because it’s Neil_~~ , the shade Neil’s cheeks turned when he caught sight of him was maybe his favorite, he decided. 

“Ah,” Neil looked to the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I thought you were done and I... I just-”

“It’s fine,” Andrew said, walking by him. Close, but not close enough to touch. He headed to his dresser and started pulling out clothes. “Here, take these. All yours are dirty.” He held out the folded shirt and sweatpants. As he did, he nodded towards the open door, “Towels are under the sink.”

Neil wouldn’t look at him, but he did take the proffered clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, Andrew sat heavily on the bed, dropped his head into his hands, and laughed at himself. 

_Am I fucking 13 again?_

Andrew finally gathered himself together enough to get dressed and get what he came here for in the first place. He headed to the kitchen and stopped in front of a drawer. Rolling his head on his shoulders, Andrew inhaled a deep breath and opened the drawer to reveal a well-made black case. He removed it and placed it on the counter, before opening it’s bindings with no ceremony, to reveal the knives he’d stowed away ages ago - before he and Renee had left for the west coast. 

Running his thumb over the flat of one of the blades, he slipped them into place in his armbands just as Neil walked in. 

“Ah, so they’re not just for decoration,” Neil said. He was toweling his hair and Andrew watched a drop of water make it’s way down his neck and into the collar of _his_ shirt before answering.

_Focus._

“No, they have a practical use.” He forced his attention back to what he was doing, relishing in the familiar weight and cool press of metal through fabric in his arms. 

“Can I take a turn?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded, adjusting the bands. 

“Why do you wear those? Is it just for the knives or is it to cover...”

_‘Do you do that to yourself because you want to die?’_

Andrew briefly let his lip ring touch his teeth, about to bite down but he forced himself to let go. Instead, he met Neil’s eyes and stopped what he was doing. “It’s to cover,” he said, then debated explaining further. _Might as well._ “I’m not ashamed of my scars,” he shook his head. “As Bee says, they’re proof of my survival. I did what I had to in order to cope. But, I don’t need sympathy from anyone else. I don’t need the looks.”

Neil just nodded. “That makes sense, I suppose.” And then, “I keep my scars covered, too. Most are just in a place where they can be easily hidden.” Neil walked over and leaned his back against the counter beside Andrew. 

“Karl-” Andrew started before he could stop himself. He pressed his lips together and debated dropping the conversation, but inhaled a deep breath. He didn’t want to keep anything from Neil regarding this, _his_ , investigation. He deserved to know everything. “The guy we interviewed in Germany,” He clarified. “He said he saw scars on your stomach.” 

Neil furrowed his brows, “I don’t remember hearing that on the podcast. I mean, I heard it and I remembered of course. I was terrified of my mom finding out.”

Andrew shook his head. “I didn’t air it. I had Seth cut it from the notes and I didn’t mention it in the podcast.” He shrugged and rubbed the nagging itch behind his ear. “It wasn’t important to the investigation. It seemed... it _is_ really personal. I assumed it was true because of our conversation - where you said you had scars, but I had no idea if he was exaggerating. It just...” he shook his head again. 

Something crossed over Neil’s face as Andrew spoke. A decision in his eyes as he looked over Andrew, as if surveying him. Eventually, he came to a decision as he took a step into Andrew’s personal space. Andrew stood in socks, but Neil was in shoes and Andrew had to tilt his head back to look up at him. He watched as Neil slowly reached for his hand, like he was giving him time to pull away. 

He didn’t. 

Neil took Andrew’s hand and slowly put it under his shirt, onto his stomach. Andrew felt his breath stutter, his heart skip a beat, the bottom of his stomach flip and twist - not because of _closeness_ but because of what lay beneath his fingers. Andrew flexed them involuntarily and felt the scars there. They were bumpy and rigid and Andrew wanted to feel more, but didn’t dare move his hand from where Neil held him. 

“He wasn’t exaggerating,” Neil said quietly, then let go of Andrew’s hand and turned for the living room to grab his bag. Andrew turned his back and allowed himself thirty seconds of a minor heart attack, before he took a deep breath and finally grabbed his shoes.

He led Neil downstairs and bypassed the rental. 

“Where are we going?” Neil asked, looking around. But Andrew only had eyes for one thing at the moment. 

He didn’t answer. He was beelining it to a car that was covered. There was no ceremony as he quickly pulled it off to reveal a sleek black Maserati and Andrew ran a hand down it’s length, before leaning his head on the drivers side door. He sighed. He missed this car, so fucking much. He was so sick of driving shitty rentals (aside from Reynold’s Porsche... Which, paled in comparison to his baby). 

Neil laughed and it was a _good_ laugh. “Wow,” Andrew could hear the nod in his voice. “This is just... weird. You’re so fucking weird. It’s a car, right? This is a _car_ , not a spaceship or submarine or something?”

Andrew lifted his head. “Do not mock this car. This car is a _triumph_ of human engineering - oh wipe that grin off your face Josten, before I make you walk.”

Neil didn’t. His smile turned wider, but somehow more secretive, “No you won't.”

_No I won't._

“Yes, I will. Don’t try me. Get in the car.”

Neil did, chuckling and smiling and -

the entire way. 

* * *

 

When they pulled up outside of the ‘tower’, Neil took a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on the borrowed track pants he wore. 

“The sooner we go in, the sooner we get this over with,” Andrew mumbled. Neil knew he was right. Didn’t make this any easier though. He was about to walk into a room full of strangers who had been basically studying him for months. 

_But Andrew will be there._

_This will be fine._

_Everything’s fine._

_I’m fine._

When Andrew eventually got out, Neil begrudgingly did too and followed him into the building. There was a small reception-type area with doors on either side and an elevator across from the main door. They took it up to the very top floor, then to a set of double doors with a piece of paper taped beside it reading **THE FOXHOLE NETWORK**. The doors opened to a work area with doors that he supposed led to offices, then a comfy looking lounge with overstuffed couches surrounding a large coffee table in the middle towards the back. And on those couches, were what he assumed to be the team. 

Neil recognized Renee first. With her white hair and rainbow tips, she stood and walked over to meet them, squeezing Andrew’s shoulders in greeting as she said quietly, “It’s good to have you home.” Then, she flicked her eyes towards him. “I haven’t told them anything other than you were on your way,” she still directed towards Andrew, “I wasn’t sure how you would want to handle it.” When Andrew nodded stiffy, she gave a half smile and turned towards Neil with an outstretched hand. “Neil, right? I’m Renee. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Neil glanced at the offer warily. He knew how close she and Andrew were - what he _couldn’t_ figure out was _why._ Renee Walker seemed to be the complete opposite. Buttoned up to the throat and a cross around her neck... Something about it made him on edge and maybe that was the only reason why he took her hand for a brief shake. She didn’t hold it long. One down and she removed her hand before crossing them in front of her skirt. 

“Where’s King?” Andrew asked. Renee smiled. “Your office. Last I saw, she was napping in a patch of sun.”

With a look at Neil, Andrew turned and walked a few feet down the hall and pushed the door open. He’d barely stood there when Neil heard a jingle and watched as Andrew crouched down, only to stand back up. His back was turned towards the main area, but he could see the black and white fur he recognized as King’s in his arms. Neil turned his eyes away to the room at large. He felt like he was intruding. 

“Come on,” Renee said. “You can come meet everyone.”

_Everyone._

Biting into his lower lip, he followed behind her and suddenly felt terribly exposed. Everyone was watching him, but it was Allison that caught on the quickest. 

She looked different - older and more refined than the kid he remembered her as. Her hair was blonde and at least a head taller than him. She wore clothes that probably rivaled the fancy shops on 5th Ave in New York, and lips that shone too glossy to be just chapstick. She stood, putting a hand over her mouth as she stared at him with wide eyes. Everyone’s head turned toward her, but she didn’t say a thing. 

Andrew walked back in the room with King tight in his arms, and looked between Neil and Allison with a sigh. 

“Right,” he mumbled. Then a bit louder, “Everyone sit. We’ll explain.” 

Everyone found their places again. Neil tried to find a spot that was least occupied and sat at the end of one couch, while Renee sat at the other. Andrew settled between them, arms still tight around his cat. 

“Mother fuckin’ shit-” a tall man on the couch opposite him said, leaning forward on his elbows. Neil recognized him from the team interviews - Seth Gordin/don whatever. “You’re him - you’re Nathaniel, right?” 

~~_Unfortunately_ ~~

Neil just swallowed hard and nodded. 

_This is wrong, Nathaniel. You’re exposing yourself._

There she was, back whispering in his ear and making him sick to his stomach. She wasn’t wrong. 

No one else said anything. They all looked stunned (specifically, Allison), but they all waited. Neil looked at them each in turn and when his eyes landed at Dan Wilds, he idly wondered if Matt had ever gotten the balls to call her. 

Andrew cleared his throat beside them and from his pocket, pulled his recorder out of his pocket and set it in the middle of the table. Neil watched the red light flash when he hit record. 

[ Record On ] 

“Let’s get this over with,” Andrew started. “This is Neil Josten. Yes, once Nathaniel Wesninski. I’ve been with him in New York these past couple weeks.”

“Do you remember?” Allison finally cracked and blurted out. “I mean, we met - when we were kids. I don’t...” She shook her head, “I’ve always remembered. It’s why I wanted to help...”

Neil nodded again and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I remember. I was young and...” He wet his lips. They were suddenly dry. “It had been a long time since another kid had said anything to me.”

“Oh god,” Dan whispered, hands gathered tightly in her long shirt. “Na-” Her eyes suddenly hardened as she quickly caught and corrected herself, “ _Neil_ . We’re so happy to have you here. Really -” She shook her head and looked around to the rest of the team before landing back on him, “We’ve been so invested and just hoping - _praying_ that you and your mom were okay. I can’t believe Andrew actually found you.”

Neil shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to say to these people. They were acting like the prodigal son had come home. 

He wasn’t anyone’s son.

_Not anymore._

“Dan, calm down,” Andrew said, giving her a hard stare, then directing it to everyone else. “I know this is the thing we’ve been working towards, but there’s a lot to this story you all need to know.” Everyone, surprisingly, stayed quiet. Andrew’s foot tapped and Neil watched as he buried his fingers in King’s fur - just as he did with Sir. He caught Neil looking and raised a brow. Neil just gestured for him to continue. He didn’t feel like telling this story again. 

With a small nod, Andrew directed his attention to Seth. “Seth,” he started, “Did you listen to the audio notes I sent you?” 

He shook his head. “I haven’t checked my email this morning. I just got the call from Renee to come in for a team meeting.”

Andrew pressed his lips together, but nodded. His voice lowered, “I want you to put those in the system. Make copies - whatever you gotta do. I don’t want them lost.”  
“Yeah, cool, I got it. Now, can you please explain,” he gestured towards Neil, “What the fuck?”

Neil rolled his eyes and could practically hear Andrew doing the same. “Neil and I met when we were kids. He was 12 and I was 13. We spent a few hours together at the Grand Canyon.”

There was an uproar before Andrew could even finish. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Allison’s voice was the loudest, reaching above all the noise. She pointed at Andrew with a long nail, “I sat there and told you how I met him when I was fucking 11. And you didn’t say shit!?”

Neil gave Andrew a sidelong glance to see Andrew’s face completely blank but for his right brow raised just slightly. 

Then, it was Dan. “Andrew, why wouldn’t you tell us this? I don’t understand.” She shook her head and leaned back into the couch with her arms crossed over her chest. There was concern creasing her forehead, but at least she didn’t look angry - Neil thought. 

“I didn’t want it to cloud what we were doing,” Andrew interrupted. “I didn’t want people to make assumptions about my motives. All we did was talk, share some shit about our childhoods. Then, we made a promise - that if we were ever able to, we’d help each other one day.  When I saw the doc and realized who he _actually_ was, I decided I was in a position to help.”

“You still lied to us,” Seth pointed out. “That’s not cool.”

“Yeah, I have to say, Andrew. I’m having a hard time with this. You dragged us all into...” Dan motioned around with her arms, “ _this_ without giving us the full story. What happened to transparency?”

When Neil looked at Andrew, his eyes were glaring directly at Dan. He spoke normally, but that monotone was back. “Do you think you’re really in a position to talk about _transparency_ , Wilds?”

Alright. That was enough. Neil had been trying to keep his mouth shut - really clamped his teeth down to let Andrew get out what he wanted to. But, he really couldn’t anymore. 

“You know, I get it,” he started as exhaustion and frustration crept upon him. “I’m sure this is a huge shock to you all. But what does it fucking matter? None of this changes anything. It doesn’t change how you did what you did to find me and it sure as shit doesn’t change that I'm here now. Andrew didn’t want his motives called into question. He didn’t want people to speculate on what was _one_ meeting, _one_ afternoon. If anything, it made him the best person to do this investigation because he had actually met me and tried to get to know me. Now,” He took a deep breath, “The only reason why we’re here is because people are chasing us and we’re trying to get around it. The way I understand it, this podcast has put The Foxhole Network on the map, more than Dayly Exy. So, you’re fucking welcome. If we could move past what is a moot point now that I’m here and get to the fucking four day roadtrip we just took, where we were almost killed more than once, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Neil sat further into the couch and looked over at Andrew. He was staring at Neil, corner of his lip twitching and King still tightly clutched in his arms. Neil surveyed her for a moment and she looked cooly back at him - assessing. 

_I miss Sir._

_“_ Oh _,_ ” Seth said, looking at Andrew as if something important had suddenly dawned on him. “ _Oh_ , alright then. This is how it is I guess... I don’t even blame you. He’s just fucking like you.” 

“What?” Neil asked, confused and utterly annoyed at _being_ confused. 

“Nothing, he’s an idiot.” Andrew turned, glaring daggers at Seth. “Moving on.” Everyone stayed silent, so Andrew proceeded. “Neil got in contact with me while we were in Arizona. I flew from there to New York where he’d been staying. We’ve been there for these past few weeks-” 

“Doing what?” Dan asked. “You disappeared on us. We had no idea not only where you were, but what to tell the listeners. Were you two just hanging out and eating fucking hot dogs or something?”

_Ye-_

“Yeah, eac-” Seth started to say until he caught the look on Andrew’s face. Seth quickly cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling. 

Andrew kept that glare for what Neil thought was longer than necessary, considering he had no idea what Seth had been getting at, until Andrew continued. “Of course not,” he said stiffly towards Dan. “We had a lot of sit down talks and I had to convince Neil of my good intentions. He wasn’t overly happy to see me, if you can believe it.”

Neil snorted. 

“It doesn’t fucking matter _what_ we were doing. Some of his father’s men found out where he was and that we were together. They chased us at least as far as Roanoke, before we made it here and we’re pretty confident they knew where we were going.” Neil thought Andrew was doing a very good job of summing up this entire situation so they could be done with this already. 

_I’m tired._

“So,” Allison said slowly, “They’re heading here.” It wasn’t a question. Her brows rose and her head tilted. “You’ve led them directly to us.”

Neil was shaking his head before she even finished. Raising his hands, he rubbed at his eyes and applied pressure, before he dropped them and let out a breath. “They’re _not_ going to come after everyone in this studio. They’re insane, not fucking stupid.”

“Is there a difference?” Allison interjected. 

“ _Yes._ ” Neil replied firmly. Then, “They want _me_ and now, probably Andrew too. We thought it’d be safer to hide in the open, let your listeners know I’m here so if anything happens, it’ll be questioned. It’ll go _noticed_ . And _hopefully_ , that’ll make them think twice.”

Everyone went silent after that. Neil could hear King purring in Andrew’s lap. 

It was Renee that finally broke the silence. 

“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say, we’re glad you made it back okay.” Her eyes looked to Andrew, then immediately at Neil. “And Neil... we want to help however we can. That’s what this whole thing was about, wasn’t it? Whatever we can do.” She directed her gaze around the room. “We’ll do it.”

Neil just nodded at her. He didn’t know what else to say. He knew Andrew trusted her - trusted all these people. But, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, of making a mistake, of needing to run as far and as fast as he could. 

Maybe Andrew felt it too, because he stood. “Renee, call campus safety. Tell them there’s been a threat made to the studio and get some extra security patrolling around here.” When Renee nodded, he turned off the recorder and headed to his office.

[ Record Off ]

He disappeared behind the closed door and everyone turned to look at Neil - 

Who sighed and decided to move on. No more questions, he was done feeling like he was being scrutinized. “My friend is coming tomorrow. He’s the person I’ve been staying with in New York.” He looked to Dan. “Has... did he ever call you?”

She looked confused. 

_Of course he didn't._

Neil rolled his eyes, “Nevermind. He’s coming tomorrow just to make sure everything’s fine and to bring me...” **Sir**. “Some of my things. I don’t know what time he’ll be here yet, but just a heads up. I don't know,” he looked around to all of them, “If any of you will be in the office tomorrow.”

Dan just nodded and when no one said anything else, Neil stood and rubbed his hands on his pants again. “It’s... nice to meet you?” Then when everyone just raised their brows, looking like they had so much to say but deciding not to say anything at all, he continued. “I know you’ve all been working really hard to find my mother and I and... Thanks, I guess. Hopefully, we can figure this all out and I can be out of your hair soon. 

Right before he turned to go, Renee spoke up with a _‘warm’_ smile he suspected was common from her. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. I think we’re all a little shell shocked at the news, but I speak for everyone when I say we’re glad you’re here.”

Everyone nodded far too enthusiastically for Neil’s comfort level. So, he just nodded to her, glanced at everyone else while successfully avoiding everyone’s eyes, before making his way to Andrew’s office. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Seth called. Neil paused to look at him with a raised brow. “Once he’s in there, he’s like a fucking dragon. Walk in and he’ll burn you to a crisp for entering his lair.”

Neil just rolled his eyes and continued to the door. He knocked once. 

“Go away.”

“It’s me,” Neil said at the door. There was a beat of silence and then, “Come in.”

Neil started to open the door when he heard a scoff. He glanced to see Seth look at everyone else. “They fuckin’. Just sayin’.”

Neil entered without any further thought or comment. He didn’t really care what any of these people thought. He didn’t know them and they didn’t know him. They had no clue what was between him and Andrew. 

Even Neil didn’t fucking know. 

* * *

 

Andrew made for his desk the moment he entered his office. With a tight hold remaining on King (who didn’t seem to mind), he pulled out his laptop, set it off to the side on his (messy) desk, then opened the lid and waved his mouse on his desktop to boot up as well. Was he escaping? Yes. Did he need his space? Yes. Space to breathe, to think, to take in _King_. 

It was absolute, body melting relief the moment he picked her up. She settled every muscle in his body, every worry and fear that was tickling his nerves, she muted them for the time being as he felt her familiar weight pressed against his chest and vibrating with the beat of his heart. He’d almost sank to the ground in the hallway before from it all and just buried his face in her neck. He took a moment now to do just that. 

She rubbed her head against his and breathed her in. 

“I missed you, friend,” he whispered to her. She licked his ear and he took that as ample response while he thought _‘don’t cry’_. But he would - Andrew would cry if he had to. If only to get everything that had been building inside of him out. 

Turns out he wouldn’t have the time, because someone knocked on the door and disturbed him from his thoughts. 

“Go away,” he said, unwilling to have someone in this space right now. 

“It’s me.”

_Neil._

Andrew sighed. “There’s someone you should meet,” he said to King quietly. She meowed in either response, or because he was turning them in his chair. “Come in.”

The door opened and Neil closed it behind him before he took a seat in King’s big white chair. 

“Are you hiding?” Neil asked. 

Andrew turned himself to face Neil properly. “Yes.”

“Cool, me too.”

_Sorry for leaving you out there._

Andrew didn’t say anything, just continued petting King and scratching under her chin. Maybe he was detaching. he didn’t know. Anxiety drawn so tight over so many weeks, that upon reuniting with King, he didn’t know how to properly interact. 

“So, this is King?” Neil asked and Andrew glanced up. 

Slowly nodding, he stood and placed King in Neil’s arms. “This is King. She’s my Sir, I suppose - not technically an ESA, but she might as well be.” He scratched behind her left ear, before he sat back down and watched as Neil nodded like he understood. Andrew reckoned he probably did. 

Neil held King gingerly, tilting his head down as he stroked his hand over her back and said, “Hello, King” and King reached a paw up to Neil’s face as if to say, _‘Hello, Neil. We’ve been waiting for you.’_

It was almost more than he could take. 

Neil probably noticed. Because the next thing out of his lips was, “Seth thinks we’re fucking.”

Well. That was one way to pull Andrew out of his head. He felt his face heat and he didn’t even fucking know why. Turning back to his computer, he shook his head in attempt to dislodge the stupid feeling _‘we’re fucking’ elicited_. 

“Seth is an idiot,” Andrew said, and proceeded to pretend to be enthralled in something on his laptop. 

Neil laughed a little. “Yeah, seems like it...” Then a deep breath, “So. My hair.”

Andrew turned back around then and stood, not knowing why. Nonetheless, his feet carried him back to Neil. He looked down at where he was sitting, King curled in his lap. He did _it_ before he could talk himself out of it. Maybe it was to see if it was really as soft as it looked, maybe it was to get a better look at his roots - or maybe he did it because he was _fucking stupid_. 

He ran his fingers through Neil’s hair, peering at his roots. 

“It can be cut, I think... and then stripped to get the rest out,” he murmured and passed his fingers through again. 

Neil didn’t say anything. Andrew looked down at him to see blue eyes staring back - that tinge on his cheeks back. Andrew couldn’t help it, then. He moved his hand from Neil’s hair and cupped the side of his head, just for a moment. He didn’t expect the warmth - he didn’t expect Neil to close his eyes and lean into the touch. He didn’t expect the feeling expanding in his chest and the voice that usually reminded him of what a fucking dumbass he was to go utterly silent. 

He didn’t expect a knock on the door, or neither of them to move. Neil did open his eyes though and that voice was back to tell Andrew _Enough._ He reluctantly dropped his hand and sat back at his computer. 

_I just need to stay seated for a few..._

“What?” he called, absolutely and utterly unaffected. 

“It’s Renee. Can I come in?”

_Yes_

“Sure.”

Renee’s smile when she walked in was aimed at both of them with eyes flicking between the two. “We’re going to order some food. You two want anything?”

“No,” Neil started, but Andrew cut him off. 

“Sure, just get extra of whatever you’re ordering,” Andrew said, starting to turn back before he had an idea. “Hey-” he leaned into his chair and tapped his foot on the floor. “You do your own hair, don’t you?”

Renee just nodded and cocked her head. He could see her wondering where Andrew was going with this as she narrowed her eyes just slightly. 

“Can you do Neil’s?” Andrew glanced at him, only to find Neil focusing on King. “He needs it cut and wants to strip the dye, so it’s back to his natural color.”

Renee walked over to Neil and he finally raised his head again. However, she didn’t touch him. She did lean in to look closer, “Your natural color is gorgeous,” she said. 

“Um... Thanks?”

Renee smiled again and nodded, “I should be able to fix it, no problem. Just let me run and get the things I need.”

Andrew started to pull out his wallet, but Renee waved him away. 

“Stop that, I got it.” Andrew nodded. Because that’s how their friendship was. Easy. Give and take. 

_She’s my best friend._

Anyway.

“By the way,” he said before she could leave again. With a hand, he motioned at the shit he’d had to push aside on his messy desk, “Who was in my office? My shit’s all fucked up.”

Renee blushed - actually blushed and Andrew raised a single brow. 

 _“Walker...”_ he whispered accusingly. “What did you do?”

She smiled and bit her lip. _Oh fuck_. He knew exactly what she did and who with. He shook his head. “I’m so disappointed.”

“We’ll talk later,” she said to him pointedly, then walked out of the room and left the two of them alone again, shutting the door behind her. 

Andrew looked back to Neil who was again, focusing on King - petting her from head to tail. He turned back to his computer and kept pretending like nothing was happening here.

* * *

 

Neil and Andrew emerged when the food arrived. It was to the smell of chinese and the look of a team that had been sufficiently sobered. Neil had no idea what had happened, but he was too hungry to care. He and Andrew took seats beside each other on the couch, and Neil pulled a carton of noodles towards himself. 

“So,” Dan started, and Neil looked up to see her looking at them both. “We listened to the notes.”

No one said anything. 

She sighed, “I’m sorry if we seemed put off when you first came in. We were just... surprised. But, those notes-” She shook her head. “That shit was scary,” Her eyes bounced between the two of them. “I’m honestly shocked you’re both alive. Glad - So fucking glad... Honestly, Andrew.”

Andrew just raised a brow. 

Dan rolled her head on her shoulders and leaned forward from her spot. “We’re a team. We’ll always be a team. We’re foxes and we take care of our own, you know that. If anything happened to you, this team would’ve been irreparably fractured. I know we love to give each other shit and call you monster and whatever else, but seriously. We’re all glad you’re okay...”

Andrew just nodded and continued eating honey chicken. Neil followed suit because he could feel the sort of awkward energy radiating off him. 

“So,” Seth said, gesturing between the two of them with an eggroll. “You two...” 

Andrew put the chicken down. “What, Seth? You two, what?” The look on his face was completely blank, but something about the look in his eyes even made Neil pause. 

Seth froze with the roll halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly. “Nothing.”

_Smart._

Neil glanced at Andrew again. Andrew kept his look on Seth until Dan interrupted once more. 

“Right... What’s the new plan?” She asked, setting her food on the coffee table and picking up her phone. “Is the podcast still happening? Are we still recording? Or are we done, now that you’ve found him?” Her eyes, light brown, glanced towards Neil, then back at Andrew. 

“Actually,” Neil spoke up, “I found _him_. It was easy. I don’t know what took him so long.” 

The team laughed, but Andrew just rolled his eyes and turned to Dan. “The plan for now is to keep the podcast going. I don’t know where it’ll end up, but with the audio notes we have and Neil to interview, it’s enough for an episode. The rest is going to depend on what happens going forward and what _Neil_ wants.” Andrew turned his eyes to Neil and they connected. “If we wants me to shut it down, I will,” he looked back to Dan. 

Who nodded, “Sounds fair. Then what’s your plan for now? Are you two staying at your place, Andrew? Or is Neil staying somewhere else?”

Neil was about to open his mouth to say he could find a place to stay (he’d been doing it since he was a kid, after all) when Andrew spoke for him. 

“He stays with me.” It sounded final and forceful - like he dared anyone to challenge it. No one did, because why would they?

_You should. It’s not a good idea, Nathaniel._

_Oh well._  

“I want to stay here tonight, at the studio,” Andrew continued. “It’s probably safer than my apartment and tomorrow is day zero on the countdown.”

All of a sudden, the tension in the room grew and Neil felt his anxiety spike. He swallowed hard and looked down at the carton in his hands. 

Rather than linger on it, however, Dan just nodded. “Cool, we’ll all stay.” And her tone was just as final as Andrew’s.

Allison, however, whipped her head toward Dan. “Um? We will? I don’t remember agreeing to that. Where are we supposed to sleep?” Allison then looked towards Renee, as if willing for her to agree and for a moment, Neil _might_ have seen what Andrew was implying back in the office. _Huh_ , he thought, but ultimately, decided he didn’t know enough to care.

“Aw, come on, Alli!” Seth said, pushing her shoulder from his seat beside her. “It’ll be fun! Like, a foxhole slumber party or some shit. Someone call Wymack and tell him his children need babysitting. Too many of us in one space for so long is bound to make dumb shit happen.”

Allison rolled her eyes, made a disgusted face at Seth, but said no more. 

Neil himself, didn’t know how he felt about staying here with all these people in the same space. 

He supposed as long as Andrew was there too, he would be okay. 

-

Renee walked into Andrew’s office later that afternoon, holding up a bag of materials and proclaiming she was ready to do Neil’s hair. Neil simply nodded and stood to follow her to the small bathroom in the studio. He turned to find Andrew, but he’d disappeared. He didn’t follow them. 

“He’s probably off somewhere to have a cigarette,” Renee said, taking bottles and a comb, scissors and a number of other things out of her bag. Neil just shrugged. He wasn’t _watching_ for Andrew. That’s just so... silly. To constantly need to have eyes on someone?

_What even? Hah._

~~He wished he was wherever Andrew was with a cigarette of his own.~~

“Come on,” Renee said, patting the chair she’d dragged in there. “Let’s get you back to yourself, shall we?”

Neil didn’t respond. He didn’t know who _‘himself’_ was. Did having his natural auburn back mean he was Nathaniel again? _I don’t feel like Nathaniel_. Neil was who he’d been for so long now. Too long, for sure. But it was who he’d been when working at the bookstore, with Matt, and Andrew - 

He sat in the chair as Renee instructed and watched quietly as she worked - pouring two different bottles of something into a bowl and mixing it with a brush. Once she seemed satisfied, she stepped up to him, brush in hand, and smiled a small smile that reached far too _far_ for his liking. 

Nonetheless. 

“Ready?” She asked. 

~~_I don’t know._ ~~

He nodded and looked straight ahead as she began brushing the mixture into his hair and he was immediately reminded of his mother dying his hair for him when he was too small to do it. 

_‘Stop fidgeting, Nathaniel. Do you want them to find you?’_

He had to close his eyes for a moment. 

“Okay?” Renee asked. 

~~_No._ ~~

_Yes._

Neil cleared his throat. 

“Yeah,” he forced out. “I’m fine.” Then quickly, “So what’s the deal with you and Andrew?” _Move on, move on, move on. Distract yourself_. 

He _was_ curious though. After watching the interview of her, hearing her say she was a bad person trying to be good - he wanted to understand more. Because it still didn’t totally fit in his head and that made him uncomfortable. 

“Deal?” she asked, not stopping from her task. 

“You just seem... different.” He clarified. 

She stood to the side of him, but he could still see the cross necklace that hung around her throat, winking in the bathroom light. 

“Ah...” Renee laughed a little. “We’re not so different, he and I - in manner, perhaps. But, that’s just how we are. Andrew is rude and obnoxious, but he’s also kind and protective and loyal. I take the good with the sometimes not-so-good. Although, I don’t really mind his smart mouth. Keeps people on their toes.”

Neil smiled a little. He didn’t mean to. “Yeah, I guess he does.” He responded and ignored the _twinge_ of _something_ in his chest. 

_Whatever._

Renee finished with the brush and put a plastic cap over Neil’s hair. 

“That has to sit for 20 minutes,” She said and sat on the closed toilet. She didn’t look like she was going anywhere. In fact, she leaned forward on her knees that were pressed together and tilted her head. “So, how are you doing with all this? You must be overwhelmed, after staying under the radar for so long...”

Neil sighed. 

_I don’t really know._

That was true and he hated it - the feeling of not knowing, not understanding. He hadn’t had time to really stop and take a self assessment. 

“I’m okay, I guess,” a complete guess. “I’m used to being hunted at least. I’m just not used to worrying about someone else while it’s happening. My mom died a long time ago. I’m out of practice.”

“I’m sorry,” Renee said and she sounded sincere. Something he also wasn’t used to. “About your mother. I can’t imagine what that was like for you as a teenager. You’ve done a remarkable job of staying unnoticed since then.”

Neil laughed a little, because it _was_ funny. “I don’t even know if _they_ know she’s dead. They might, by now - but I think the fact that I was traveling alone helped me hide. They were probably still looking for a mother and son.”

Renee was quiet for a moment. When Neil looked over at her, she was studying him closely. **_Too closely._ ** He looked back to the wall in front of him. Was 20 minutes up yet?

“I’ve known Andrew a long time,” she finally said. Neil didn’t respond, so she continued. “He takes his responsibilities seriously - takes his _promises_ seriously. But, I know he burdens himself with things he can’t control sometimes. He may seem... brash and a bit dramatic where these things are concerned, but he took you very seriously. I just thought you should know... I didn’t know anything about the promise you two made until we were in Arizona and he was leaving to meet you. But, I could tell it was something he’d carried with him all these years.”

Neil still didn’t respond. He didn’t need her to tell him this. 

_I don’t need to know._

~~_Yes I do._ ~~

Renee sighed, “I guess I’m just saying Andrew cares about you. I can tell. And he doesn’t let himself get to that point very often.”

_Okay._

“Okay.”

The timer on Renee’s watch finally went off and she stood, carefully removing the plastic cap from his head. She then instructed Neil to lean back into the sink and he closed his eyes as she rinsed his hair. 

_‘Andrew cares about you.’_

Neil knew that. He didn’t think Andrew would bother with the whole ‘almost getting killed’ if he didnt. Neil just didn’t know in what _capacity_ Andrew cared, and perhaps... that was the scary part of all of this. Because _he_ was starting to realize in what capacity _he, himself_ , cared, and it was in a way he’d never had to think about before. 

_Stupid._

Neil tried to let himself relax while Renee shampooed his hair - he tried to let the warm water, the feel of her gently massaging his scalp, release some of the tension. But, it was over far too soon to actually help much. Renee instructed him to sit up and finally pulled out a pair of scissors. 

“Okay,” she smiled down at him. “How short do you want it? You have a lot of length here, so we can pretty much do whatever you want.”

_‘Do whatever you want’_

He’s never had the liberty to really make these decisions. It’s always been what's the most convenient, normal, _whatever_ style possible. What _won’t_ make him stand out? What _won’t_ be noticeable? What _will_ be as vague as possible? He’s never had the chance to think of how he would _like_ to dress or what he would _like_ his hair to look like. So, he didn’t really know.

He put a hand to his wet hair and felt the squinted expression take over his face without thinking about it. “Um...” he started and shrugged his shoulders slightly. Not only had he never really been given the choice, he’d always just done this himself and never really _cared_ . Now, he found that he _did_ , maybe... Just a little? “Maybe shorter on the sides,” he gestured vaguely at his head. “But longer on the top? I don’t want it to be too short, I don’t think.” All he knew was that he wanted to be able to run his fingers through his hair. 

~~_My fingers. Sure._ ~~

Anyway. 

“Got it,” Renee said and began snipping. 

Neil tried not to watch the short pieces of auburn begin to fall around him. It’s been so long since he’d seen it and - 

She pulled out a pair of clippers from her bag and set to shaving the sides and (he guessed) cleaning up the edges. Eventually, she pulled out a small blow dryer Neil had no idea she had, and took a few minutes to dry his hair. Once the dryer was off, she put away her tools and stood back to look at him. 

Her smile was soft, easy, gentle, _kind_ , and completely well meaning. “I think you look great,” she said, nodding to herself. 

He bit the inside of his lip hard, steeled himself, and turned around to face the mirror. It was _almost_ too much though. He looked away quickly because he’d forgotten how much he looked like his father - The older he got, the worse it was and now, at 25, he could’ve passed for him in his younger years. 

_I hate it._

“Thank you,” he said quietly to her and without anything else, made his way out of the bathroom. He didn’t turn when he heard, “You’re welcome, Neil. Check the roof.”

* * *

 

Okay. Maybe he did have a thing for heights. The Grand Canyon, rooftop of Allison’s apartment, the Tower - he didn’t know what it was. His heart beat far too fast from all the way up here, which was probably why he liked it. 

 _Living on the edge,_ He mused to himself then rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. 

Nonetheless, there he sat at the edge of the roof, knees pulled to his chest with arms resting on top and a hand holding a cigarette that dangled in between. He took a long drag and watched as the afternoon turned into evening - the light starting to turn gray. 

Maybe he would stay here all night - watching from above. He could see everything from here. He could see cars coming and going, and the parking lot, and the top of the exy stadium. He briefly wondered what Neil would say if he offered to take him there. It was a place he hadn’t spent much time when he was in school here, but he felt confident they could make it inside, between the two of them. 

_The two of us._

He heard the door to the roof behind him open, but he didn’t turn around. Nonetheless, he knew it was Neil. He didn’t know _how_ he knew, but he did. 

Neil sat silently beside him, letting his feet hang over the edge. He didn’t say anything and once Andrew had ignored it for as long as he possibly could, he turned to look. 

The auburn was so intensely _Neil_ , that it was a little hard for him to breathe. Brown didn’t suit him - no. Neil was full of colors and the drabness seemed so wrong for some reason. **_No reason._ ** It was just - he was hit with the full effect of the _real person_ when Neil turned to look at him; all blue eyes and auburn hair and tan skin and brown freckles and lips just a shade darker than pink. 

He looked away. 

“That bad, huh?” Neil asked quietly. “I don’t like it either.”

Andrew took another drag. “It looks like you.”

“It looks like _him,_ ” Neil said and Andrew didn’t need to ask who _him_ was. 

“It looks like _you_ ,” Andrew said again. Then, “Don’t do that.” He turned his body so he was facing Neil, and Neil pulled his legs up to do the same. They both sat, cross legged and knees touching. 

Neil shrugged. “I look like my father. I know I do because my mother liked to remind me of it any time she panicked. She could barely look at me some days - even with the dye and contacts.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I don’t like it.”

Andrew inhaled a deep breath, then held out a hand for Neil’s. He wanted to give him a chance to ignore it, to keep his hands in his lap if he wanted. But, without hesitation, Neil reached out and placed his hand in Andrew’s. Andrew took it and pressed his thumb at the spot between Neil’s thumb and pointer finger. It was acupressure, supposed to help relieve anxiety. He didn’t know if it worked as well as a hand behind his neck, but this, he thought, could be enough. Bee taught him, of course. 

He hoped she was having fun with Bells. 

“You,” Andrew started, still pressing firmly, but gently. “Are not your father. Looking like him means nothing. You are _nothing_ like him. Neil-” Andrew dipped his head to try and catch Neil’s eyes. It was slow, but eventually Neil looked up at him. “He’s dead. He’s never coming back and he got what he fucking deserved. You? You’re here. You’re alive. And you’re going to stay alive.”

Neil stared at him, saying nothing. 

“Say it.”

“I’m going to say alive,” Neil whispered. 

“You are not him.”

“I am not him.”

“You are _here._ ”

“I am here... with you.”

* * *

 

Eventually, they made their way back down to the lounge when Dan texted that dinner had come. Someone had picked up Publix subs and Neil was confused at the excitement. 

“They’re just sandwiches? Like Subway, right?”

The whole team turned to look at him slowly, even Allison, who he assumed would be above such things. 

“Child,” Seth said, “Sweet, small child. Come,” he motioned and patted the couch. “Sit. Have a Publix cookie and a turkey sub. Would you like some Publix sweet tea? Because I may have gotten two gallons of it and it _may_ be in the fridge right now.”

“You got sweet tea and didn’t tell anyone?!” Dan said, punching Seth in the shoulder as she quickly walked past him to the break room. 

Once Neil had picked the tomatoes and lettuce off the sandwich, he had to admit, it was pretty good. And all of this? It felt... comfortable. No one treated him like he was any different than the rest of them. They included him in conversation and asked him questions about his likes and dislikes even though he didn’t have a lot to share. 

His phone rang halfway through dinner, and when he looked down he saw Matt’s number. 

“Shit,” He mumbled and Andrew’s head immediately snapped to him. 

“What? Who is it?”

“It’s Matt,” Neil quickly clarified, not wanting to worry Andrew, but also sighed. “I totally forgot to call him and tell him I got here. He’s probably having a fucking corinary...”

Neil stood and left the room to make the call, stepping into the tiny break room. 

“Hey, Matty.”

_‘Don’t ‘hey Matty’ me. Where have you been? I told you to check in with me.’_

Neil ran a hand through his freshly cut hair. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things have just been... crazy. But, we made it to Palmetto. I’m at the studio right now.”

Neil listened as Matt let out a breath he must’ve been holding this entire time. _‘Good, good. I have my ticket for tomorrow. I’ll be there in the morning. I got the earliest flight out that I could. I’ll grab an uber and come straight to the studio. Is that where you’ll be?’_

“Yeah, we’re staying here tonight. There’s security and shit, so it just seems more... secure than anywhere else.” Anyway, “How did your game go?”

 _‘How do you think it went?’_ Matt asked and Neil could hear the smile in his voice. He smiled too. 

“I think you kicked their asses.”

_‘You’re smarter than you look. Okay, I’ll let you go. I still have press and shit to do - but Sir and I will be there tomorrow. I’ll text you when I land.’_

“Okay. See you then.”

* * *

 

Andrew watched Neil as he came back into the room and took a seat next to Andrew on the couch. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

Neil nodded. “Just Matt. He said he’ll be here in the morning.”

“Is Matt the friend you were talking about?” Dan asked. Neil just nodded and Andrew realized Boyd must’ve never called her - _and_ that Neil had failed to mention the insane crush _Lloyd_ was harboring. He laughed to himself. 

“What’s funny?” Allison asked. “Oh, Dion! Thank god. Did you bring my shit? If I’m being forced to sleep here, I need my shit.”

Andrew’s stomach dropped. 

_Fuck._

He determinedly did not look at Dion. If he was being completely honest, he’d forgotten all about him with everything that’d been happening these past few weeks. And now, all of a sudden, this felt unbearably awkward and he didn’t even fucking know why. 

~~_Yes you do._ ~~

Dion handed Allison her things and talked to her for a few minutes, before turning away and setting his sights on Andrew. Andrew quickly turned to Neil. 

“Did Matt say what time-”

“Hey, stranger.” Dion leaned over the back of the couch to talk to Andrew. Andrew pressed his lips together and Neil gave him a confused look. He slowly turned to meet Dion’s gaze.

“Hi,” Andrew said and made to turn back to Neil. 

“I’ve been trying to text you. Do you want to... go somewhere and talk?”

Andrew opened his mouth to say no, he didn’t want to go anywhere to talk, when Neil leaned around him and held out a hand. 

“Hey,” he said, razor sharp smile in place. “I’m Neil.”

_Oh._

_Introducing yourself...?_

~~_Oh._ ~~

Dion smiled, because Dion was a good man, a kind man, a smiley man, “Hey, Neil. I like those eyes. Are you-”

He stopped when he saw the look on Andrew’s face. Then, his eyes lingered on just how close they were sitting together on the couch. 

 _Yes, please, jump to conclusions,_ Andrew thought and then realized how fucking pathetic he sounded. But really, he didn’t want to be a dick and honestly, Dion didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. No, Andrew was just... done now. Like he always became done, eventually. 

“Ah,” Dion said slowly, standing back up straight. “Well,” he looked to Andrew and smiled a truly kind, _understanding_ ~~_ugh_ ~~ smile. “You have my number,” he winked, before leaving the office. 

Then,

“So,” Neil said, setting his sandwich down. “Who was that?” Brow raised, eyes... amused?

“No one,” he replied, because it was mostly true. 

“No one?” Neil tilted his head. “Didn’t seem like no one.”

“Does it matter?” Andrew asked, and some small part of him wanted Neil to say, _‘yes, Andrew. It matters very much.’_

_Stop it._

But, he didn’t. Because why would he? He looked away from Andrew instead and picked at the bread of what was left of his sub. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

They didn’t talk about it again. 

-

Someone had collected extra pillows and blankets. Andrew hadn’t thought to bring any, so they passed them around. Couches and tables were pushed back and everyone piled together on the floor - Allison and Renee laughing at something Seth had said, and Dan instructing everyone on where to lay down.  Eventually, they settled into a comfortable mess on the floor and Andrew laid down in between Neil and Renee and stared at the ceiling, arms behind his head. He jumped when Neil gently poked him in the ribs. 

“Sorry,” he whispered and smiled a very small smile. 

“It’s fine,” Andrew said, covering the spot with his hand and gently rubbing. “What?”

“Matt is bringing Sir tomorrow. Do you think she and King will get along...?”

Andrew almost laughed. This was what Neil was worrying about right now - not the potential impending doom when the clock literally struck 12 tomorrow night. “I don’t know. I”ve never had King around other cats. She’s always been top tier around here.”

“I hope they do,” Neil said. 

“Me too.”

Eventually, everyone around him fell asleep - even Neil. He turned his head to watch him, blanket pulled up to his ear. He looked peaceful like this. 

_Young._

Almost unbroken and normal and _content_. 

~~_We’ll never be that._ ~~

But maybe, they could. Neil always made Andrew feel younger than he was, for some reason. He’d be 30 in a few short years. He shuddered at the thought and turned his head away. 

“Hey,” Renee whispered from beside him. “You’re not sleeping... you okay?”

Andrew turned over to face her. “You’re not sleeping either,” he said, pointing out the obvious. 

_Deflecting._

“No, I guess I’m not.” _Renee._

“So,” Andrew said, because this seemed as good a time as any. “You going to tell me what’s going on with you and Reynolds?”

Renee smiled and it wasn’t her usual small, sweet smile. No, it was big and it was bright, even in the darkness of the room. “We’re... together, I guess. Dating,” she shrugged. “I don’t know. I like her.”

“I know you do,” Andrew sighed. “I still think you deserve better, but I’m glad you’re happy.” He had a respect for Reynolds that was, shockingly, able to penetrate the top layer of _sparkle_ she maintained. She could be obnoxious and vain, sure - but she also respected what they were doing here. In fact, she’d gone above and beyond to help. She took Andrew at his word and trusted his decisions and that went a long way with him.” 

“What about you?” Renee asked and her eyes flicked over Andrew to where Neil lie beside him. 

“What about me?” he asked dumbly. 

Renee just raised a brow and Andrew rubbed his eyes. His glasses were on the table and he strained to see in the darkness. When he dropped his hands, Renee was still looking at him expectantly. Andrew didn’t see the point in denying anything to her. She always knew. 

So, he told the truth. 

“I like him,” he whispered. 

“I know you do.”

* * *

 

Sunday morning, Neil was woken when two people entered the studio. He sat up, immediately on guard, but the whoops and cheers of the others at the sight of _breakfast_ and _coffee_ in the man and woman’s hands made Neil relax. 

“Wymack and Abby,” Andrew said to him, leaning over. “Wymack’s the head of TFN and Abby is our legal counsel.”

Neil just nodded. They looked nice enough, he supposed, but had a natural fear/distrust of men his father’s age.

And Wymack looked like he could punch pretty hard. 

Nonetheless, Dan stood and talked to them, gesturing towards Neil. Andrew sighed, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

They stood together and walked over. Wymack nodded his head over his shoulder, and Andrew and Neil followed him and Abby to what Neil assumed was Wymack’s office. 

They sat in various chairs around the room and Wymack, rather than sit behind his desk, leaned against the front of it with his hands gripping the edge. He was a large man with large, strong looking muscles, brown skin, and tribal tattoos circling his forearms. “So,” He said gruffly, looking at Neil. “Nathaniel-”

“It’s Neil, actually,” Neil interrupted. Wymack nodded. 

“Neil. I’m David Wymack. I’m the head of the studio here. Dan’s filled me in on a bit of what’s been going on and I just want you to know, you have a place here for as long as you need it. I don’t know the specifics and frankly, I don’t want to.” He lowered his chin and made sure Neil was looking directly at him when he said, “But, we’re here to help.”

“Thank you,” Neil murmured, for lack of anything else... because what was wrong with these people? They just want to... _help_ all the god damned time? Don’t they know what they’re dealing with? Don’t they know-

“Me, too.” The woman said. “I’m Abby, David’s wife and TFN legal counsel.” _Abby_ was pale with brown hair and the kindest eyes he thought could rival even Matt. Her smile made her eyes crease as she said, “I’m sure something will come up eventually. After dealing with this one,” She nodded to Andrew and her smile turned almost playful? “Anything you have will be a breeze, I’m sure.”

 _Hah._ He wasn’t. Nonetheless,  he nodded. 

Wymack turned to Andrew. “Now, as for _you_. What the hell were you thinking!? Disappearing for weeks without anyone knowing where you were?!”

He was yelling and Neil involuntarily clutched the arms of his chair. 

“Reynolds knew where I was,” Andrew said calmly.  “And Renee knew why I went.”

“Neither of them were forthcoming with information, I’ll fuckin tell you that. You should’ve told Dan. You should’ve told _me._ Next time you pull a stunt like that,” he said, pointing a finger in Andrew’s direction, “I’ll have your ass nailed to the god damned wall.” He then pointed to the orange wall of his office. “Understand?”

Neil swallowed hard and gripped the seat even harder. 

Andrew, surprisingly, didn’t argue. He gave a tight nod and Neil didn’t miss the look he flicked in his direction. Wymack looked too and must have seen something on Neil’s face, because he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Fine. Out of my office.”

They went. 

Neil was just sighing a breath of relief when he heard, “YOOOO, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!”

It was Seth. Neil and Andrew looked at each other for a moment, before rushing into the lounge. Neil almost laughed when he saw the scene in front of him. It was a great fucking tension relief because there Matt was, standing in the short entrance of TFN, cat carrier in hand, and bag on his shoulder - taking a step back and looking around frantically. 

Seth was frozen in front of him, hands on his head in disbelief. Allison was frantically straightening the scarf on her head while Renee looked on in amusement. Dan was nowhere to be seen. 

When Matt spotted Neil, he gave a sigh of relief and smiled his signature megawatt smile. 

Seth dropped his hands to cover his mouth. 

 _“Oh my god, what the fuck..._ ” he hissed between his fingers. 

Neil walked over and Matt dropped what he was holding (gently) to give Neil a hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said. Neil hugged him back and gave him a grin because he couldn’t _help it._ Matt’s brows furrowed and Neil thought for a second it was because of the smile, but instead, “Holy shit, bro. Your hair!” He laughed and tousled it. “Looks good!”

Andrew had come over behind Neil and Matt’s smile dropped when he caught sight of him. “Minyard.”

“Lloyd.”

That’s when Dan came around the corner, looking like she’d changed and freshened up with her curls tied at the top of her head and a few wet ends dripping onto her shoulders. She stopped dead. 

“Is-” Her eyes widened. “Are you...” She looked dazed, but not more than Matt who stared at her for a second as if the meaning of _life_ was standing in front of him. His eyes squinted, like she was too bright to take in at once, then took a step towards her. He couldn’t help himself, Neil thought. Probably couldn’t stop if he fuckin’ tried. 

She stayed frozen in place, but tilted her chin up to look at him. 

“I’m Matt Boyd,” he said dumbly and Neil wanted to laugh - like that wasn’t the most obvious thing about this entire fucking situation. 

Well. Maybe it wasn’t. 

Dan looked around Matt to Neil. “ _This_ is your friend!? _He’s_ the one you said was supposed to call me?!”

Neil rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah... Yeah.”

She looked back to Matt. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her. 

“I didn’t call you because I’m chicken shit and I’m sorry if this is too forward or creepy or whatever, but from the moment I saw your picture on the Red Rabbits website, I thought you were the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid eyes on.” He spoke so quickly, Neil swore he didn’t take a single breath. 

Dan sucked in a breath, pulled back her chin, and blinked a few times. Then, she took a second to get her bearings. “Oh...?” Her head tilted. “And yet, you didn’t have the balls to call me?”

_Oh. Andrew wasn’t wrong._

Matt shook his head quickly, “No- No. Neil was afraid I’d out him, so I didn’t try contacting you for his sake. Then, Minyard gave me your number and I saw your interview-”

“Oh, god, no,” Dan whispered. Seth crowed with laughter. 

“And I thought - there’s no way I’ll live up to the hype. No way she’ll like me when she meets me. So, yeah. I didn’t have the balls. But, now that I’m here, in front of you... I just needed to tell you.” He finally took a deep breath. 

“That I’m pretty?” Dan rallied. “Thanks, but I already knew that. If that’s all you’re looking for, then you’re in the wrong place.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin and Neil saw it suddenly, when Andrew said she was a Lion. 

Matt, obviously, saw it too. “You _are_ pretty,” he nodded. “And you’re smart and hardworking and strong as fuck... Any man or woman or _anyone_ , would be a fucking _idiot_ not to fall in love with you immediately.”

“You don’t even know me,” Dan said, head cocked and eyes squinted. 

“No,” Matt murmured. “I don’t. But, I’d like to. Minyard said you would chew me up and spit me out and let me just say,” Matt put a hand to his heart. “It would be an absolute honor.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ puke,” Seth whined, but his smile was wide and nose wrinkled. 

Dan obviously ignored him, but her lips twitched and she tried in vain to beat that smile down. _‘He’s got her,’_ Neil thought and was surprised with himself at it. Nonetheless, he turned to Andrew smiling. Andrew, however, wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were bouncing between Matt and Dan with something akin to... annoyance? Frustration? No... it was - _sadness_ , Neil thought. He just didn’t know _why._

“How long you in town for?” Dan asked, biting her lip and Neil could see Matt fucking shudder. His hands were fisted at his sides and he knew it was taking every ounce of willpower Matt had no to reach out and hug her. He was a physical, loving guy. This show of strength was honestly commendable. 

“I told them I need the week. I fly back Friday,” he replied automatically. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Dan regarded him for a moment, eyes squinting, then that smile she was trying to beat away, blooming softly on her lips. “I suppose,” she said. “Use that number Andrew gave you and text me.”

Matt nodded like Neil would imagine a fucking puppy would. “I will.”

With one last look, Dan walked past him so her back was turned towards him. Facing the room at large, she looked around with wide eyes and mouthed, _‘OH MY GOD’._ Seth was positively vibrating on one of the couches. 

She stopped in front of Neil and Andrew, composing herself enough to clear her throat and get out, “I’m going home and running some errands. Andrew,” She focused on him. “Do you need us here again today? Are you staying?”

Andrew automatically shook his head. “No. You should all go home,” to the entire room. “It’s day 0 and while I’m hoping nothing will come of it, I don’t know. The sooner you’re out of dodge, the better. We’ll stay in touch.”

Dan looked to argue, as did Seth from the couch, but it was Dan who steeled herself and firmly nodded. “You better,” before she left the room. Allison and Renee stood. Seth followed. One by one, they gathered their things and _one by one_ they left the building. Renee was the only one to really linger, staring hard at Andrew. Neil looked at him, to see something pass from his eyes to Renee’s. He didn’t know _what_ but it must’ve been enough for Renee to finally turn and leave. 

A quiet meow disturbed the tension in the room and Neil looked down to find King sniffing around Sir’s carrier. 

_Sir..._

It sounded ridiculous, but he felt a small weight lift from his shoulders as he bent down and petted King, scratching under her chin. Andrew sat on the floor beside her and brought her into his lap. Neil sat too. 

Matt walked over, still in a daze and sat on the nearest couch whispering, “She’s even more beautiful in person, you know...? Those fucking eyes -” he leaned his head back on the couch and put a hand on his forehead like a woman from an old timey movie who was about to faint. 

“Yes, Matt. I know,” Neil responded, leaning to peer at Sir through the grate of the carrier. “Hey, Sir,” he said quietly and she meowed at him. He opened the carrier and slowly pulled her out, making sure to keep a tight hold on her - just in case she and King didn’t see eye to eye. 

He placed her in his own lap, so he and Andrew were mirror images across from each other. 

“This is King,” Neil said, lips bowed to the top of Sir’s head, and allowed Sir to lean forward enough to sniff the other cat. King drew back further into Andrew, and Andrew rubbed her head and put his face close to hers. 

“It’s okay,” Andrew told her. “She’s a friend. She takes care of Neil,” King nuzzled his chin and looked back to Sir. Andrew let them get a little closer. 

They sniffed each other a bit, but ultimately decided to mostly ignore each other. Which, Neil concluded, was probably better than them fighting. They both set the cats down and let them pretend the other didn’t exist in peace.

Neil hit Matt on his knees where he was still sitting on the couch. “Real smooth, man.”

Matt laughed and turned his head towards him where it leaned on the back of the couch. “Shut up. That went better than I thought it would. _And_ , we’re having _dinner_ , Neil,” he said, more excited than Neil thought he’d ever seen him.

That’s when Wymack and Abby came out of the office and started to say goodbye when Wymack caught sight of Matt. He stopped and stared, looking confused and shaking his head as if to convince himself what he was seeing was real. “Am I hallucinating, or are you Matt Boyd?”

Matt grinned _that_ grin. “In the flesh,” he stood and shook Wymack’s hand. “Matt Boyd, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wymack shook his hand mechanically. “Does someone want to fill me in here?”

Neil cleared his throat and stood too. “Yeah uh, he’s a friend. He’s the one I’ve been staying with in New York. He came to make sure I was okay and to bring me my cat.”

“Ah,” Wymack started, then looked quickly to the cage on the floor, then Sir, the gray tabby, who sniffed around the office - scoping it out. “Right...” he pressed his lips together and nodded slowly, then looked back to Matt. “Sure, okay, I guess. It’s nice to meet you, Boyd. You’re a hell of a player.”

“Thank you, sir,” Matt said and Neil was suddenly confused by his behavior - until he remembered Dan calling him ‘Dadmack’ in her interview. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. Just came to make sure Neil,” He motioned in his direction, “was alright.”

“No, no,” Abby said, coming to stand beside Wymack. “Stay as long as you need. It’s fine, really. We were just leaving to go to lunch, weren’t we David?”

Wymack looked to her confused, then his eyes lit with understanding. “Oh! Right. Yes. Lunch.” But, “Does Kevin know he’s here?” he asked, pointing to Matt but looking to Neil, then Andrew. 

“No,” Andrew said quickly, which Neil was grateful for. “ _Don’t_ tell Kevin. We don’t need him showing up here.”

Wymack gave him a stern look. “He’ll be here tomorrow to work, you know.”

Andrew shrugged, “Then we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

_Tomorrow._

Wymack shook his head, bid a goodbye to Matt in the form of a nod, then followed Abby out the front door. 

Matt turned back to him. Andrew jumped on it immediately, “ _Matt Boyd, sir. Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you, sir,”_ he said mockingly. 

Matt flipped him off. “That’s why people hate you and like me”

Andrew just shrugged. Matt sat back in his spot on the couch and Neil lowered himself beside him again. “Thank you, for bringing her to me,” Neil said, allowing Sir - who seemed to finish her scouting - to jump into his lap. 

Matt smiled. “No problem, man. She missed you. Kept looking for you at my mom’s house.”

 _I doubt that_. But, it was nice to hear anyway. He pulled Sir in closer and watched Andrew on the floor, playing with King. 

Matt nudged him with a shoulder. “You okay...?” he asked quietly. “Really?”

Neil nodded his head. _No._ “I really am,” he lied? Maybe it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know, to be honest. “I mean, shit’s still fucked and I have no idea what’s going to happen. But... right now, I’m okay.”

Matt clapped him on the back, then rubbed the spot in one circle before he took his hand back. “Good. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. I’m going to go drop my stuff and take a shower. I’ll swing back in a bit.”

“No,” Neil shook his head and looked back to Andrew, who looked up with just his eyes. They locked. “Don’t bother,” Neil said, then directed his gaze back to Matt. “We’re going on lockdown, I think. Since today is 0. We don’t really know if she’ll try anything, but just in case. This place is safer than Andrew’s and it’s probably better if no one else is around.”

Matt, obviously, looked concerned. ~~_I am too._ ~~“You should get some cops out here to patrol-”

“Andrew called campus safety and told them there was a threat,” Neil cut him off. “They’ll be around. Don’t worry, really. Go,” he nodded his chin to the entrance of the office. “I’ll call you if anything happens.”

~~_No I won’t._ ~~

Matt knew him too well. He didn’t look convinced. 

“You have a date to primp for, don’t you?” Andrew asked from the ground. 

Matt grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes. There was concern still shining there, but he grinned nonetheless and nodded. “I guess I do, now that you mention it.” he stood and grabbed his bag. “The hotel isn’t far from here,” He nudged Neil’s shoulder. “Call me if you need anything, Neil. I’m serious. Anything and I’ll be here.”

“I will,” Neil said and again, heard the _I won’t_ echo loud and clear in his head as he watched Matt walk out the door. 

He looked back to Andrew. 

“And then, there were two,” Andrew said. 

Neil didn’t know what he was talking about, so he just smiled. 

Andrew looked at him and shook his head. “You’re hopeless, Josten.”

* * *

 

They spent the rest of the day in _‘comfortable’_ company. It was a bit like when they were in New York, in Allison’s apartment - only this time, they had the threat of imminent death hanging above them.

Still, Andrew couldn’t find it in himself to be as worried as he perhaps should be. Neil felt too close right now, too real. 

_Anyway._

They ate shitty pizza and watched shitty movies. Andrew made Neil watch The Office, which made him laugh, and Neil requested they watch Howl’s moving castle again, which made Andrew feel unreasonably happy.

_Happy._

That’s what it was - when they were like this. _Content,_ even. He didn’t know what to do with that. 

But _contentedness_ and _happiness_ couldn’t last forever, because it was nearing midnight. They sat in his office, Andrew with his laptop open and Neil behind him, sitting in King’s chair with Sir in his lap. King sat perched on her tower, watching them warily. 

“I think I’m going to post,” Andrew murmured, upsetting the silence that had slowly drawn over him. “Let people know I’m here... Just in case.”

Neil hummed. “It’s after midnight though.” Then inhaled a deep breath rather than sigh - like he was steeling himself for the _inevitable_. “Day 0 has passed.”

Andrew typed up a short post:

_I’m finally back in the studio. But, I’m back and not only am I ready to work, but I’m ready to start sharing some truths. Stay tuned. - A_

He hit posted and turned back to look at Neil. “Do we dare sleep?” he asked. 

“Getting tired, Minyard?” Neil grinned but it wasn’t full or _real_ and it was severely out of place. Maybe that was the whole point. He really was and he could tell Neil was too. He could see it in his eyes. 

“Never,” he murmured. “You are though.”

Neil laughed a little. “Yeah well.” Then slowly stood, picking Sir up with him. “I’m going to go make coffee. Be right back.”

Andrew nodded and turned his focus back to his computer, checking emails and looking through asks on the website. He could hear Neil in the breakroom, shuffling around. 

It was a few minutes later when he realized he couldn’t hear anything anymore and that - 

He sat up straight, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. He reached for his recorder out of complete habit, turning it on and slipping it into his pocket. 

_Just in case._

**[ Record On ] - REDACTED**

King had jumped down from her perch and paced in front of the door, meowing. Andrew wrapped his hand around his left forearm and felt the cool press of his blade slightly dig into his skin. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath as he opened his office door the rest of the way and poked his head out carefully. 

“Neil?” 

No answer. 

_No._

_Shit._

King stood in front of him, getting in his way whenever he moved to step so he couldn’t move without tripping over her. Gently, he nudged her away with a leg back into his office and shut the door. She meowed loudly from behind it nonetheless.

Which made him start towards the kitchen.

“Neil,” he tried again, louder this time.

_Nothing._

_No no no no no-_

He got to the break room and pressed a hand to the door to push it open. 

“Ne-”

* * *

 

Neil was cursing.

He was begging.

He was praying. 

He didn’t know _what_ he was, except for _royally fucking fucked._

He was in the front of the black car, hands behind the seat in cuffs. 

He was stuck. 

He was _fucked_. 

He couldn’t move. 

Lola was behind him.

Romero had jumped him from behind while he was making coffee. He tried to fight - but a couple of well placed punches from the much bigger man, had knocked both the wind and the fight from him. 

He went willingly after that - hoping, _praying,_ that if he just went along with it, they would leave Andrew alone. 

_What a fucking stupid thing to assume, Nathaniel. Have I taught you nothing?_

Obviously, he was wrong.

“Please,” he said to Lola through gritted teeth. “Just leave him alone - he has nothing to do with this -”

Lola laughed her high pitched, ringing laugh and Neil cringed. “Oh, oh little _lamb._ You’re just so _sweet_ ...” she tsked her tongue. “Listen closely, alright?” Her voice was closer, a near whisper in his ear and he tried to shrug his shoulders to make it go away. “ _You_ brought him into this. Whatever happens to him is your fault.” She sighed. “It’s such a shame, too. He’s so good looking... The height is disappointing, of course. But - I see what you see in him.”

_No, no no no no no-_

Neil closed his eyes and swallowed down bile. It burned down his throat and he bit down on the inside of his lip to replace the taste with something _familiar._

The back door opened and Neil whipped his head as far as he could to see Romero dumping an unconscious Andrew into the foot space of the backseat of the car. His hands were bound in front of him and Romero made sure to shut the door hard enough so it hit Andrew in the head. 

Neil winced, as if that hurt him too because - His vision started to go blurry. 

_No. Please no, no, no. Not here. Not now._

**_We didn’t have enough time._ **

“Please...” Neil tried again, then louder, “ _PLEASE-_ ” He knew it wouldn’t work. He knew begging would do nothing, knew pleading would do nothing but earn him mocking jeers in return - but, he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop. He attempted again to get his hands free in vain. “Lola - Lola, just let him go. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He shook his head and closed his eyes tight, like he could erase the memory of Andrew’s motionless form and the blood that trickled down his temple, from his mind. 

Lola leaned forward until her mouth was once again at Neil’s ear, but this time, she bit his earlobe and Neil yanked his head as far back as he could. “You’ll give us whatever we want, anyway,” she whispered, unbothered. Then, she turned her attention to Romero and told him to drive. 

They headed off campus. 

“Now, Junior,” Lola tapped her long nails on the back of his seat against the leather. Each little _tap_ sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m so glad you have your coloring back.” Her voice was closer again and her fingers brushed roughly through his hair. “You look _so_ much like you’re father.... Just my type, you know.” She took what Neil assumed was a knife and ran the blade down one of his arms as she sat back against the seat. He cringed and bit down hard on his tongue, trying to keep the panic, the fear, the scream at bay. 

“Too bad you turned out to be such a disappointment...” She tsked again. 

“Andrew-” He forced out, perhaps stupidly ~~_it was_ ~~. “Andrew -” He repeated, but stronger. “Is he dead? Lola - please just tell me-” That’s when he finally let the scream out. Mouth already open to speak, he couldn’t bite it down or hold it back or anything - because she dug into his skin with the tip of the blade and he slammed his head back against the seat. 

~~_You’ve been through this before. You’ve had worse. You can take it, you can do it. For Andrew -_ ~~

Lola tutted at him. “So worried about _widdle Andrew_. What would you father say, I wonder? He was always a man’s man. Seems you are too-”

“Andrew’s more of a man than he ever was,” Neil said through his gritted teeth, breathing hard and fighting back tears he refused to let fall. 

“Oh?” Lola asked, conversationally. “How interesting...” She then made quick slashes down one of his arms and no matter how many times he’d been cut - no matter how much pain he’d endured before, this was _nothing in comparison._

_Scream. It’s okay. Cry. Do whatever you have to do. That’s what she wants. She wants to see you, hear you, to watch you hurt and -_

_Take the focus off Andrew. Give her what she wants, Nathaniel._

_But I don’t_ **_know_ ** _what she wants - I don’t know what I did -_

“Just tell me what you want!” he yelled, because no matter how many times he could convince himself the voice inside his head was right; no matter how many times he told himself to _listen,_ the pain was just too much. 

It was overwhelming and soon, he knew he would lose himself to it. 

He was already beginning to, because he saw no end in sight. 

And when Neil thought he couldn’t possibly scream anymore, he did anyway. 

Between sobs and pants and -

They were the only thing preventing him from calling Andrew’s name. 

He failed.

* * *

 

Screaming. 

Someone was screaming.

_I can’t open my eyes._

They were so heavy. 

He felt sluggish. 

_Who’s screaming?_

_“ANDREW!”_

He felt his brows furrow. _Neil?_ It was. He was screaming. He needed him. He needed help. 

His body couldn’t move - wouldn’t follow what he felt his mind screaming to do. He opened his eyes slowly, carefully. Everything was spinning. He felt nauseous. 

He tried to take in his surroundings. The only thing he could deduce was that he was in the floorboard of a car. His back was against the door and his feet were in the middle of the footwell. His hands were bound in front of him with metal cuffs that dug into his skin. 

With a deep breath, he felt a pulse in his head and realized he’d been hit. It hurt like a mother fucker. 

He shook it to try and clear it a bit, but that didn’t work. His head pulsed harder and he squinted his eyes against the pain, swallowed hard at the burn in his throat and forced himself to try and calm the pound of his heart and the static - the buzz in his ears. 

Andrew tried again. Opening his eyes, he clenched his jaw and realized it was Lola. 

 _Lola_ was in front of him and the scream - it was Neil. She was _cutting his arms_. 

He felt his pulse spike, felt the adrenaline kick in and his automatic reaction was to squirm, but he knew better. He _thought_ he knew better - 

He was afraid to make any sudden moves. Afraid she’d stick that knife in Neil’s neck if he tried to fight. 

“This is payback,” Lola hissed at him. It pierced through the _noise_ blocking his ears and was swallowed by Neils sc- “For Nathan’s death. He was going to get out. _We_ were going to get him out and we were going to find you and your _bitch_ of a mother _together_ . We were going to take you _both_ out - but now... Now, I have to do it alone, because he’s dead while you’re out here, _galavanting_ around with your boyfriend. I don’t think so, Nathaniel.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Neil yelled and something inside Andrew shattered, and it kept shattering over and over _and over -_ “I didn’t have anything to do with it! Mum is dead!”

“I know she’s dead!” Lola crowed, sounding terribly please. “I’m the one who killed her, remember? And oh sweet lamb, I know you didn’t kill him. The Moryamas did!” Andrew watched with narrowed eyes as she leaned forward and reached for something. He heard her whisper in Neil’s ear, “Who do you think sent me to kill _you_?”

_No. No, no, no-_

Neil screamed. He screamed and screamed and Andrew smelled the burn of his flesh. He tried again this time - he tried to move his body, but didn’t know what he could _fucking_ do from this position. But she was _burning_ him. She was burning him in a neat pattern, up and down - making cuts in between along the length of his arms and down to his hands and

She _burned_ his knuckles, _sliced_ his fingers. Andrew was going to be sick, he was going to 

“Stop-” he tried to say. Words wouldn’t resonate, his mouth wouldn’t move properly and he felt like he couldn’t _fucking_ move. This was his nightmare, to sit idly by while someone - He was supposed to _protect_ him. He was supposed to _help_ him, and was this all his fault?

_Did I do this?_

~~_Shut up. Shut the fuck up._ ~~

“ _Stop!_ ” It was stronger, firmer. It held weight and it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough - not until she put down that god damned knife. Until she fucking stopped. Until - “ _Please-”_ He forced out. He hated that word. He hated it so fucking much but he would say _anything_ right now. He would do anything just to stop Neil’s screams, to stop his pain. He would take it all, it didn’t matter what it _fucking_ was. 

But he knew that wouldn’t work. 

 _Because_ **_please’s_ ** _never did._

With one last press of the cigarette lighter, she punctuated his words with one of Neil’s screams, before Leaning back in her seat. His eyes zoned in on her ‘weapon’, then automatically looked to Neil. 

He’d stopped screaming now. His head was turned towards Andrew. It was dark in the car, but under the passing lights from the road outside, Neil’s face was put into stark relief every few feet. He looked to Andrew, tears streaming down his cheeks, sweat matting his hear and his eyes - they looked dead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And that was so wrong. It was so fucking _wrong._ Because this wasn’t his fault. This was _his_ . It was Andrew’s. _It’s mine._

Andrew shook his head. Because this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. He willed his body to move. 

“Boyfriend!” Lola exclaimed. “Did you have a nice nap?” She ran one manicured hand over the side of Andrew’s face and he jerked his head away _because_. She slapped him instead. 

“Manners, lover,” she cooed and leaned towards the front seat again. “Let’s just let that heat up again shall we? Then, we can have some more fun.” He heard the click ring around the car as the lighter slid into place on the dash. 

_Buzz, buzzbuzzbuzzbuzzbuzz_

She leaned back in her seat and checked her nails, humming all the while. “The Moriyama’s, Nathaniel,” she called up to the front. “They knew who you were as soon as you stepped foot in that stadium, didn’t you know? They were perfectly content to leave you be. I mean, they couldn't really care less about you, so long as you stayed out of trouble.”

She turned to look at Andrew, her _grin_ visible in the darkness. “Hello, Trouble.”

_No._

“Why do they care now?” Neil asked, wheezed, he breathed hard. “I haven’t done anything! Haven’t said anything!”

“Hmmmm,” Lola hummed. “No, you haven't, have you? Such a good boy... Unfortunately, once they caught wind that you and _boyfriend_ here were having a grand ol’ time in New York, doing _god_ knows what, they decided to take action. Honestly, I think they just figured they’d kill two birds with one stone-” She stopped suddenly and after a moment, broke out into a shrill laugh. “Kill two birds with one stone! Romero! _Did you hear that?!”_

“I heard,” Came a gruff voice from the front. 

“I’m so _funny_ ... Anyway,” She inhaled and gestured with her hand, “So, here we are. Killing some _love_ birds! Tweet, tweet, little birdie,” Lola whispered as she bent forward again and Andrew could tell she was pulling the cigarette lighter back out. “I’m going to kill you first though,” she sang to Nathaniel. Then, like one would speak to a lover, “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for _so long.”_

_No. No -_

She wrapped an arm around his neck and held the knife on one side of his face, so he’d have nowhere to move but into it’s blade. Then, she took the cigarette lighter and pressed it into the soft skin of Neil’s cheek. 

He screamed again and Andrew - he couldn’t - _NO_

He looked around quickly, mind on overdrive, Bee _screaming_ in his ear, his pulse racing and his adrenaline taking over every fucking muscle in his body. He ached, he hurt, he thought, _I’ve done this before._

Quickly, he looked to Neil’s _red_ arms, his cuffed wrists. He was secure. Maybe a dislocated shoulder, maybe a bruise - but he wouldn’t go flying, he wouldn’t hit his head -

Lola wasn’t wearing a belt. She was free in the back seat and as Andrew tilted his head back and squinted through the pain, he realized Romero was to. 

So, Andrew moved. 

He used his legs as leverage and slammed his body as hard as he could into the driver’s seat. When he car swerved once, Lola dropped her knife, but Andrew did it again, and again, _and again_ , and he kept on _fucking_ going because he _had_ to. 

The car kept swerving, and Lola screamed, “Stop it! You little fucking shit, STOP -” but she couldn’t do anything. Not before Romero swerved into oncoming traffic and headed straight off the side of the road. 

They bounced a couple of times and Andrew had nowhere to go as he shut his eyes tight, grit his teeth, and curled in on himself as he waited for the hopeful crash - 

That came against a tree. 

_Just like last time. Just like when I-_

“Andrew?” He heard, rough and quiet past the wheeze of a broken car. He was dizzy, disoriented. He could feel the warm trickle of blood drip down his face and into his eye. It stung. 

_It doesn’t matter._

Because _Neil._

His eyes, he could _see_ them. There was relief in that blue. He was sure it mirrored his own - 

Andrew watched as they rolled and Neil’s body slumped forward. 

_No. No stupid... stupid, stupid, stupid -_

“Romero...” Lola was dazed, but it didn’t take her long to come to. Her red hair was a mess about her head, stuck to blood or sweat on her face - gloss on her lips, she was _red_ . “ROMERO!” She jumped forward and shook the large man in the driver's seat. Andrew inhaled a deep breath of something akin to _pride_. He hoped he was fucking dead. He hoped -

“What did you do,” she turned on Andrew, blood in her eyes, her teeth, on her hands, _she was_ **_red_ ** , “You _fucking animal!?”_ She slapped him again and he saw stars. It didn’t matter. He was numb. He could only think,

_I just need her knife._

“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed and grabbed the knife on the floor once she noticed where his eyes were. “Oh no no no, we’re doing this now. Both of you. Together! Like Romeo and _fucking_ Juliet!” She threw open her car door and stumbled out. “Star crossed lovers! Doomed from the start!” 

She unlocked Neil’s cuffs. His arms fell limp. He nearly hit the dashboard and Andrew jerked, he tried - he was too weak to move and he was _stupid, stupid, stupidstupidstupid_

Lola opened the front door and pulled Neil’s arms back in front of him. Andrew heard the _click_ of the cuffs again and watched as Neil disappeared from the car. He watched from the open doors as she pulled him across the dirt and twigs and further into the woods they crashed into. 

“You know the story, don’t you boyfriend!?” she called, loud enough for him to hear. She grunted at Neil’s weight, then with one last groan, he heard the _thump_ of weight being dropped down. 

She recited, _“Why art thou_ _yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour_?!”

It was sick, it was _stupid_ , it was unreal and this wasn’t happening and -

He could see Neil. He wasn’t moving. His arms were on his stomach in front of him like some crude fucking copy of Juliet. 

“ _For fear of that, I will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again_ -” She kicked Neil and laughed. Andrew squirmed in the back, tried to get himself upright, lift himself onto the seat, do anything to get out of that fucking car so he could so _something_ - 

Lole smiled at him and approached the car once more. 

“ _Here, here will I remain with worms as my chambermaids; O, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from his world-wearied flesh._ ”

_Armbands. Knives._

If only he could get to them, reach in and take one out but -

“ _Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death!_ ”

She made her way around the car and opened Andrew’s door. Before he could do anything, he fell back and she caught him by the shoulders, whispering in his ear now - 

“ _Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide_!”

With one hard yank, she pulled him out of the car and dragged him around the car and towards Neil. Andrew moved as much as he could, he tried to fight, tried to get _away_. But his heels couldn’t dig into the ground, he couldn’t catch any roots sticking out or rocks that jut out of the ground. He couldn’t leverage himself and -

She dropped him and he moaned as his head hit something hard in the dirt. Nonetheless, none of that mattered. Not the dizziness, not the nausea, not the _buzz_ or the fear or _anything_ because **_Neil_ ** **.**

Andrew tried. He turned onto his stomach, tried to crawl towards him but she caught him before he could. She grabbed him by the arms and continued dragging him, speaking louder now. 

“ _Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!_ ”

He didn’t need to crawl, didn’t need to try to get closer to Neil, because she dropped Andrew right beside him. Andrew turned his head, feeling an intense _gratitude_ ~~_hah..._ ~~ that his glasses had managed to stay on this whole time - because Neil was still breathing. 

_He was still breathing-_

Neil turned his head slowly, like it was painful. _He’s awake -_ and locked eyes with Andrew. 

Honey and ice and all the shining truth of star crossed lovers who were doomed from the start. 

Andrew wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch - but he couldn’t. He could only look and he tried with all his might to put every ounce of _everything_ and all his _somethings_ into that look - because he was certain, lying there, that it was the last look they would ever have. 

“You’re still the bravest boy I know,” Neil whispered and Andrew - 

_No -_

He felt something wet and stinging slip from the corner of his eye. 

Neil was gone.

Because Lola crouched beside him, blocking his view. Andrew tried again. Because he’d be damned if he didn’t go down fucking fighting and he tried to move his legs, to kick her, to do _anything_. But they wouldn’t cooperate and he supposed he didn’t really blame them. 

 _“O True apothecary!_ ” Lola said, manic smile so red and stained in its place, was backlit by white light as headlights illuminated her feral features. “ _Thy drugs are quick!_ ” She raised a knife and faster than anything, before he could see it or stop it or move out of the way ~~_liar_~~ , made quick, deep slashes on one side of Andrew’s face. 

Andrew screamed, he couldn’t help it. 

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “ _Thus with a kiss, I die._ ” She kissed his forehead the way a mother might kiss a child and sat back with her knife poised at Andrew’s heart. 

Andrew squeezed his eyes shut, thought of anything he could as he tried to move his legs, his body, kick her, _anything_ \- but all his mind could do was bring forward Neil’s face, tell Bella he loved her, King that she was in good hands, and Bee _thank you._  

He tried. He tried so hard. 

_Was this always my fate?_

Lola grunted. 

_No._

Andrew opened his eyes to see Neil behind her, panting and pale. He’d moved his body enough to be able to kick her in the back and she dropped the knife. That’s when she looked back at Andrew and they locked eyes. 

They reached at the same time. 

And the adrenaline was a rush, it was exhilarating, it was tiring and scary and Andrew didn’t really know what happened. They were both moving, scrambling, screaming? Andrew from pain and Lola from frustration and -

With strength used to fuel parents who move cars of their babies, Andrew forced his body to move to the side and grab the knife at the same time Lola lunged for it. 

Fighting, scrambling, scratching, sitting up. 

Warmth. 

A gush of something hot and sticky covered his fingers. 

He looked down to find blood pooling between him and Lola. He’d grabbed the hilt and the blade was buried in her stomach. 

She looked down at him with something like confusion. 

Her lips opened to say something, to finish _stupid fucking Shakespear -_  

Then nothing. Her eyes rolled back and Andrew’s widened because she began to fall forward, began to fall on top of him and he closed his eyes against the panic and the buzz and the _no no no_ and the memory of someone pressing their weight onto him - someone who’d hurt him and 

_Get off, get off, get off -_

She stopped. 

He looked up to see Neil behind her, cuffs drawn tight over her forehead as he pulled with a scream and she fell back - the knife slipping from Andrew’s fingers and he looked down at his hands blankly because

There was so much blood.

It was everywhere. 

It was copper and Andrew choked back a sob or bile or he didn’t _fucking know -_

 _ _ ************_ Because Neil was in front of him._ _************_

And he was real. And he was alive. And he wasn’t _okay_ , but he was **_okay_ ** _,_ and he was covered in blood that Andrew knew wasn’t Lola’s and he was scared and with cuffed hands he took either side of Neil’s neck and stated the obvious because - 

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered and, 

“No, you are,” Neil responded and his eyes were so _blue_ and voice nearly gone from screaming. 

Andrew pulled him in because he didn’t know what else to do. He tugged him close and pulled so their foreheads pressed and his eyes landed on the burn and he stared at it because it was mottled and it was fleshy and red and he squeezed harder because, “ _Neil-_ ” And then he quickly looked down at Neil’s arms as his hands reached to grip his wrists. 

“We need to cover them. Apply pressure,” he went to try and grip them, to try and stop the bleeding because he didn’t know how deep Lola cut, he didn’t know if -

“ _Andrew-”_ Neil whispered and it was firm and grounding and they were _both_ panicking because Andrew could hear the shake in his voice and “Yes or no?” 

Soft, but so loud. Andrew could hear nothing else as his brows furrowed painfully and he blinked through the sting in his eyes and the blood on his hands and the automatic, “yes,” because it was _yes_ until it was _no_ and Andrew just wanted to know that Neil would really be okay. That this wasn’t the end of their rope and that they would have _time_ and he just wanted to hold him because if this were the end, if this pain would seep deep into their bones and draw nothing out again, he just wanted something, a touch that he’d chosen and wanted and needed because _what if -_

He was close. Pain didn’t exist, not as they breathed the same breath and Neil’s hands rose to hold the back of _Andrew’s_ neck with a press of his fingers and the grip of his palms on his skin. 

“It’s you and me,” Neil might have whispered, or maybe he didn’t say it at all. But Andrew nodded and their noses brushed and Andrew shuddered and thought for just a moment that so long as Neil was beside him, he could endure whatever was thrown his way. 

“It’s you and me,” Andrew repeated and then - 

Neil’s lips were _soft_ . He was _warm_ and **_alive_ ** and he didn’t know who moved first. He didn’t care. It was fumbling and messy and desperate and still, he didn’t care. 

Neil pulled back and his eyes were open and clear and blue and _right_ and he didn’t look away. 

Not as they heard sirens, not as lights flashed, and blood seeped into the collar of his shirt. Not as he gripped the crease of Neil’s elbows as tight as he could and willed for them to make it. 

Because they would. 

_We have to._

_**[ Record Off ] - REDACTED** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Neil Josten.  
> Andrew wrote something to go here, at the end of these audio notes, but I’m going to read it for him.  
> We’ve both been through more than any person should have to go through the past few weeks, and in the interest of letting him rest as much as possible and not think too hard about it, I’m going to deliver his message:
> 
> ‘ _The last part of these Audio Notes have been redacted._
> 
> _I have not listened to them._
> 
> _Neil has not listened to them._
> 
> _But we lived it, and we don’t need to hear them to know that 1) they’re graphic and 2) they’re more helpful to us right now in our pocket._
> 
> _I will just say, that Lola and Romero did catch up with us in Palmetto._
> 
> _We were both taken against our will, and we both sustained serious injuries at their hands._
> 
> _Lola is dead, and Romero is in police custody._
> 
> _That’s all the information we can give you right now, and I hope you’ll all respect that this is something we do not want to relive or talk about at the moment. As someone I hold in the highest regard would say, ‘you have to put your mental health above the curiosity of others’. So that’s what we’re doing.’_
> 
> That was Andrew’s message. We’re still figuring some things out and just trying to move forward as carefully as possible. We’ll update you when we can.
> 
> \- N


	23. Aftermath Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So after a poll and a bit of debate, we've decided to post half of this absolute monster of a chapter tonight and the second half (more than half) tomorrow!  
> Here it is! We're going to keep this short and sweet and express all our feels about this full chapter tomorrow, but we thought we ended this one answering a few questions that we know most of you have had.  
> A few CW???  
> Anxiety attacks  
> Brief description of wounds  
> Racism/Police
> 
> We hope that's it and we hope you love the first part of this gigantic ~40k chapter, as much as we do!!! Yall are really in for it ^^
> 
> Remember to stay tuned on our [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) for updates!!! The tumblr has been really fun lately, so hop on to engage or see whats up. Because as writers, we're fucking laughing at all of it too lol!

Andrew woke to a bright light shining in his face.

_Fuck. I was wrong this whole time._

He was sure he was dead. He had to be. He felt like he was floating - the bright light leading him somewhere.

_Probably on the path to hell to have lunch with my best friend Satan._

The light suddenly disappeared and Andrew blinked. There were voices. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to move his head. 

It hurt.

Really fucking bad. 

... _”concussion. There’s a contusion on his head where he was hit, and the cuts on his face need stitches asap. Contusions from the handcuffs, various bruising-”_

_Not dead._

The pain was coming back to him now. He may have moaned. He wasn’t sure. Either way, the darkness was creeping in and he was going to let it take him again - take him away with open arms. 

-

The next time Andrew woke up, it was quiet but for the steady beep of a machine nearby. He cracked his eyes open to bright, white light again. 

“Andrew?” 

He tried to turn his head, but couldn’t. He lifted a weak hand and felt something around his neck, blocking his way. 

He tried to remember what happened. Where was he?

 _Hospital_. 

He was in a hospital. 

There was a crash. _Lola._  

_Neil._

He sucked in a gasp of a breath and tried to sit up - tried to _get out._ But, there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him down and he panicked, fighting harder with  

_No no no no no_

Ringing in his head. 

“Andrew!” The voice was both so close, yet so far. “Andrew, it’s Renee!” _Renee -_ “You need to calm down, before you hurt yourself more.”

He stopped. He stopped, then reached up a hand only to realize that he wasn’t being held down, forced not to move - no one was strangling him or keeping him in place, but there was a brace wrapped around his neck. Somehow, in that moment, that seemed worse and his mind automatically told him to get it off, get it off, _get it off -_

But there were hands on his and they were soft and gentle and Renee’s voice was back, speaking softly but firmly as she said, “You need to keep it on. You have a pretty bad concussion from getting hit.” 

_He got to the break room and pressed a hand to the door to push it open. No one was there. It was empty except for - then a searing pain at the back of his head and_

 “The doctors are afraid swelling could still occur. They just want you to keep your head still, but you’re _okay.”_

_‘You’re bleeding.’ he whispered and,_

_‘No, you are,’ Neil responded and his eyes were so blue and voice nearly gone from screaming._

_“_ Alright? I’m right here with you.”

The night was coming back in bits and pieces. He remembered the crash and the red of Lola’s hair - remembered a blade poised above his heart and Neil’s screams. 

 _Neil._  

Finally, Andrew looked at her the best he could. She’d been crying. The little makeup she wore was smudged and her hair was a mess. She looked exhausted. 

_My fault._

_“Neil,_ ” he tried to get out. It hurt to talk. His face and throat hurt. Everything hurt. 

“He’s fine,” Renee said, sitting down slowly in a chair that had been pulled to the side of his bed. “He’s in another room, but he’s _fine_. They’ve stitched him up and given him something for the pain. But, he’s sleeping now, I think.”

Andrew tried to nod, but remembered he couldn’t and just waved a hand to show he understood. 

Because he did _understand._ But understanding wasn’t good enough. _Fine_ wasn't good enough. Was he relieved? Yes. But he still needed to see him. He needed to have eyes on him, confirm it for himself because -

_My fault._

“Water,” Andrew whispered. Every time he opened his mouth, he felt like the right side of his face was being ripped apart.  ~~He supposed it had been.~~

Renee was there in a second, holding a cup with a straw for him. He drank a little and thought he’d never been so fucking thirsty in his life. Nonetheless, he cut himself off, maybe as a small, pathetic form of punishment amongst the growing pile of punishments he had lined up for himself.

_My fault._

He looked at her when she put it down and she sighed. “You want to know what happened?”

Of course he did. 

He remembered what happened with Lola of course, remembered the cops, remembered shoving his recorder under a bush so they wouldn’t take it. He remembered them loading him and Neil into two different ambulances, despite their protests, and remembered giving into the pain and trauma and medication. 

That’s where his memory stopped. 

“It’s 10AM on Monday,” she started. “You’ve been here all night. I only knew something was wrong because King told me -” Andrew raised a brow at her and she sighed again. “She _knew_ , Andrew. I’m telling you... When I got to the office, I could hear her meowing from down the hall. Sir was there, too. She ran to greet me when I walked in, meowing and circling my legs, but I don’t know her, so I didn’t know she was trying to tell me something. Anyway, I opened the door to your office and King shot out at me.” She frowned at the look on his face. “She was so upset... You and Neil were both gone and the kitchen was a mess and the only thing I could think to do was start calling hospitals until I found you.”

Someone walked in the room then. A doctor. She came to stand beside the bed and looked down at a clipboard, before looking back at him. 

“Mr. Minyard, good morning.” He blinked at her. Did she expect conversation? “I know you’ve had quite the ordeal,” _quite the ordeal,_ “but, we’re going to take care of you, okay?”

_Uh huh._

She looked down at the chart again. “You came in with a concussion and you were quite disoriented. We had to mildly sedate you.” His stomach involuntarily lurched at the word _‘sedate’_. He clenched his jaw, “So we could get a proper examination. You were combative with anyone who tried to touch you.”

He gave the doctor a thumbs up. 

_Glad to see my survival instincts in peak condition even when my brain is fucked._

“We’ve stitched up the cuts on your cheek. There’s going to be some pretty noticeable scarring, but I’d recommend speaking with a plastic surgeon about having them revised. You may even be able to get them to where they are hardly noticeable.”

_Plastic surgeon._

He looked to Renee and knew he must’ve looked worried, because she just took his hand and squeezed it. The doctor continued on like she didn’t notice. 

“As for the neck brace - it’s just so you don’t move your head too much. Swelling can occur hours after an injury has happened, so we don’t want to risk worsening it. We’re going to take you in just a bit for a CT Scan to check on everything, okay?”

Andrew just stared at the ceiling and willed for her to go away. 

Once she was gone, Renee fussed over his blankets, making sure they were straight. 

“They took out your piercings, while you were out,” she said quietly, like the air was thick with a building tension, “I have them all, safe in a bag. Your glasses are right here, too,” she motioned towards the side table, “if you want them -”

_They took out your piercings, while you were out._

Andrew moved his legs beneath the blankets and felt his bare feet slide across the bed, felt his legs slip under cold sheets and - 

_They put me in a gown. They changed me while I was out and, and, and_

“Hey, hey... Andrew.” Something pressed against the bed and he flinched involuntarily. His heart started to race and he closed his eyes because he _knew_ what was happening. He was panicking and an attack was going to come if he didn’t get it under some fucking control and, “I know.” _Renee_. “I know, Andrew. By the time I got here, you were already changed. There was -”

“I know.” He got out through his teeth. Because he _did_ know. He just didn’t _fucking_ like it. He wanted to jump out of his skin, he wanted to punch someone, he wanted Renee to keep fucking talking, rambling, whatever, he needed the distraction. “Talk. Just talk.” He closed his eyes and tried to will his heart to slow down. 

Renee inhaled a deep breath from beside him, but did as he asked because she _knew_. “Okay. King is fine now, she and Sir were comforting each other when I left. I told her I found you and you were okay and I know you’re the only one who won’t think I’m crazy when I tell you she understood.” She pulled the chair back over and sat, putting her hands in her lap and holding them tight together. “The rest of the team knows, of course. They’re all here. But they would only allow one of us back at a time. Matt is with Neil and he’s a mess. I’m glad he got to have his date with Dan before all -”

Andrew held up a hand. 

_Neil._

_Neil, Neil, Neil,_

“Neil,” He said again, moving his mouth as little as possible. His face felt numb, but there were thick bandages on his cheek. “I want to see him.”

Renee ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know if that’s possible, but I’ll see what I can do, okay? But, I promise he's fine. I checked on him a little while ago.”

_That’s not good enough -_

A different doctor and a couple of nurses came in then. “Good morning, Mr. Minyard! We’re going to take you for your scan now, but we’ll bring you back here as soon as we’re done.”

Renee squeezed his hand again. “I’ll be here waiting, okay? I’ll see about you seeing Neil.”

* * *

 

Neil stared up at the ceiling. His arms were wrapped and resting by his sides. It hurt to move them, to use his fingers - but he wouldn’t let them give him anything stronger than ibuprofen anymore. Not after they gave him something that knocked him out and made him lose the past however many hours and not when he wanted to have a clear mind to devise a compelling enough excuse to see _Andrew._

He hadn’t seen him at all since they’d been put in separate ambulances and he was getting really fucking sick of everyone telling him no. 

“Hey,” Matt said from beside his bed. “Do you need anything? Water or juice or something?”

Neil turned his head to look at him. “I need to see Andrew,” he said for the millionth fucking time. 

Matt sighed and rubbed his face. “I know, man. I really do... But, there’s nothing I can do about that. The doctor has to okay it and they haven’t yet.” 

Neil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

All he saw was red. Red blood and red hair and red hands - more food to feed his ever-growing nightmares and more fuel to fire his fucked up psyche. 

But he didn’t care because it didn’t _matter_ . Not in the grand scheme of things. Because the fact of the matter was, he was used to this. He was used to fear and he was used to running, used to fighting for his life and the nightmares that followed. What he _wasn’t_ used to, was watching someone else go through it all with him and _survive._ He wasn’t used to caring about that _someone_ enough that whatever he endured didn’t matter - not since his mother. It was all _them, them, them_

And 

 _Him, him, him_. 

And Andrew was somewhere in this hospital and had come even closer to death than he had, and they kept telling him that Andrew was _fine_ , but was he really?

He was _alive_ , sure. But _alive_ didn’t mean _okay_. And not _knowing_ wasn’t fucking _good enough_ , because Neil needed to _fucking_ _know_. He needed to see him with his own fucking eyes and make that judgement because

_This is my fault._

Neil ground his teeth together. “Then I don’t need anything. I’m fine,” he said blankly and continued his vigil at the ceiling. He only tore his eyes away when he heard someone come in. 

_Renee._

She smiled a wary smile at him as she stood at the end of his bed, “You’re awake! How are you feeling, Neil?”

“I’m fine,” Neil repeated and he heard a frustrated huff come from Matt’s general direction. 

“Well, I know you’re not fine, but I’m glad that physically, you’ll be okay.” And then, “Andrew’s awake,” _Yes_. “He’s been asking about you.” 

_Oh_

Neil tried to sit up and winced. He had a broken rib where Lola had kicked him.

“Don’t get up,” she said quickly, coming to stand closer. “Right now, they’re taking him back for some scans-” his expression must’ve been bad because she continued without a breath, “He’s alright. It’s a concussion and the scan is just a precaution to make sure there’s no swelling.”

_Concussion. Swelling._

_My fault._

He slumped back down and covered his face with his hands. It hurt.

_‘You brought him into this. Whatever happens to him is your fault.’_

Lola’s voice echoed round and round in his head - a cruel song that never ended. 

_I shouldn’t have called him. I should’ve ran away. I should’ve told him to leave when he was in New York._

~~_But I’m selfish and I liked him and I didn’t want to be away from him_ ~~

_You’re an idiot, Nathaniel._

_I know._

“Neil,” Matt said. “Neil, he’s okay-”

“He’s _NOT OKAY_ ,” Neil said from behind his hands before he could stop himself. Despair, anger, a feeling that was hot and boiling in his center was spreading throughout his veins and he couldn’t reel it back in because, “He’s not fucking okay, Matt. _I’m_ not okay and _he’s_ not okay and _none of this is fucking okay!_ ” Then, with a breath and wounds that hurt as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, “I just want to leave... I want to get the fuck out of here. I need to see him.” He threw his hands down and held back a wince because he was _distracted_ and, “I can fucking walk! There’s nothing wrong with my legs,” he gestured. “Why won’t someone just _let me fucking see him?!”_

Someone cleared their throat. 

It was a doctor. 

Neil glared at her. “When can I leave?”

She adjusted a _stupid fucking_ clipboard under her arm. “Not today, unfortunately. Your injuries have been tended to, but we would still like you to have at least 24 hours IV antibiotics, before you leave and to monitor that broken rib.” She kept on fucking talking. “The risk for infection is high with how deep the cuts there are,” she gestured with her pen towards his arms, “and that could cause all kinds of muscle and tissue issues. As for the rib, it could poke a hole in your lung if you’re not careful. We’ll have one of our burn specialists look at your face and hands. They’re surface, so there’s probably not a whole lot they can do, however - plastic surgery is always an option if you want to speak with someone about it before you leave.”

_I don’t._

“Fine.” _Get this over with_. “I want to see Andrew. My legs aren’t broken, I can walk. I want to see him.” He didn’t care about his face or his arms or about scars. It’s not like he didn’t have a hundred fucking others. Add onto the pile, who gives a fuck? He. Just. Wanted. To. See. Andrew. To have eyes on Andrew and hands -

_We kissed._

_We kissed_ and the timing was... off and there was a dead body next to them and they were covered in blood and it was fucked up but that was the moment, he guessed. When they were both just so fucking glad to be alive and together and they’d been circling each other for so long - hadn’t they...? Wasn’t he? 

_Right...?_

Neil didn’t know what was going on or what he felt. He didn’t understand the tight feeling in his stomach whenever Andrew was near or the ache when he wasn’t. At first, he could explain it away to absolute anger for the man he thought he knew, but now? After everything? Days at Matt’s and nights at Allison’s, long drives and crappy motel rooms, skittles and apple pie, running and holding each other though panic attacks, and sharing a fear so strong it could swallow them whole -  

“Mr. Minyard is currently getting some tests done. If he’s up for visitors this afternoon, well see what we can do.”

Neil blinked at her slowly and decided not to respond. _See what we can do._ Oh, he’d see what he could fucking do alright; even if he had to rip all these cords and tubes right now. 

_My fault._

_I need to see him._

“Now, Mr. Josten. I understand you two went through quite the ordeal,” ~~_quite the ordeal,_ ~~ “We’ll offer this to Mr Minyard as well, but would you like to speak to one of our counselors on staff? We have a few that specialize in trauma and it might be helpful to-”

“No.”

He didn’t do shrinks, nor did he need someone picking through the mess in his head. 

Especially when he couldn’t figure any of it out, himself.

~~_That’s what they’re there for._ ~~

_Nah._ ****

The doctor didn’t seem bothered anyway. She’d probably had worse patients than him. “Okay, just let us know if you change your mind.” She turned and left the room. 

“The rest of the team is here,” Renee drew his attention back towards her, “I called them once I knew you were both okay.”

“Tell them to worry about Andrew. Not me.”

_I don’t even know them._

_I’m not important._

“I’ll tell them, but they won’t listen.” She smiled again, then left the room, pulling out her phone. 

* * *

 

The cops came later. Andrew was honestly surprised they’d waited so long. 

He’d just gotten the okay to remove the neckbrace and was about to make a fucking run for it, ass hanging out of hospital gown and all, to see Neil, when two local police officers entered the room. 

Andrew slumped back down in the bed. Perfect. 

“Mr. Minyard?” Andrew didn’t say anything. The cop sighed. Andrew was glad to see he was already accepting his failure. 

“Mr. Minyard, I’m officer Jones and this is officer Davis. We need a statement from you regarding the events that took place last night.”

Andrew still didn’t say anything - partly because his face hurt every time he moved his mouth and partly because he simply wasn’t going to talk to them. Not right now. Likely, not ever. 

But they didn’t know that. Which was why officer _Jones_ just looked at him, waiting for a response, before sitting in the chair beside Andrew’s bed. He flipped open a notebook and clicked a pen. 

Andrew raised a brow. 

“Can you walk us through what happened?”

He kept it raised and was luckily saved from what was turning out to be a very long, boring, one sided conversation, when Dan walked in. 

“He’s not talking to anyone without his legal representation present. Abby Winfield has been notified and is already looking into everything. She’ll be here later and you can get his statement when she arrives.”

Both cops looked at her with their own brows raised and she just stared at them right back. 

“Mr. Minyard isn’t under arrest,” _Davis_ attempted to clarify. “But there’s a dead body at a crime scene-”

Dan didn’t let him finish. “Take it up with Abby. You can leave a card and she’ll call you when she’s here. Same goes for Neil Josten, so don’t bother trying him either before you leave.”

It was a sight to behold, really. Dan Wilds, TFN Assistant Director, and a black woman telling white cops to pretty much shove it. 

And them listening.

Officer Jones stood from the chair and sighed, mumbling to himself, _‘... don’t have time for this...’_

Dan watched them leave before making her way over to his bed. “Did you say anything to them?” She asked, shaking her hands out like she was getting rid of leftover anxiety. 

He watched her, then shook his head. 

“Good. Good...” She let out a breath that made her cheeks puff out for a moment. “Fuck, that was reckless, anyway,” small inhale, “Abby will be here soon to see you, but I don’t think she wants you talking to them until you’re discharged. The rest of the team is here, but I made them wait until I knew you wanted company... Renee left to get you some clothes, I think, so you don’t have to stay in that,” She gestured towards him. 

Andrew just nodded. 

“Does it hurt to talk?” She asked. There was a definite concern in her eyes ~~that _didn’t_ make Andrew feel a sense of _belonging_. ~~

He nodded again and she nodded too. 

“Do you want to see them?” 

He shook his head. He didn’t want a whole crowd of people in the room right now. He just wanted _Neil_. He wanted to see with his own fucking eyes that he was okay - was moving and talking. 

~~_And that he didn’t regret what happened between them_ .  ~~

_And what was that?_

~~_Nothing_ _._ ~~

_Liar._

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” Dan drew him from his thoughts. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep them away, but I’ll try for as long as I can...” She put a hand beside his on the bed for a brief second, then left the room. 

Andrew watched her go. They were all out there, trying to get in _here_ to see him for some reason. He didn’t deserve the worry. Not when he was the one that brought this shit to their doorstep, not when he dragged Neil into this. They should be worried about _him_ - 

 _Neil._  

His door opened again and just as he was about to tell whoever it was to fuck off, Bee walked in. 

And Andrew crumbled. 

He couldn’t help it. Seeing the only person he felt comfortable being vulnerable around was too much right now. He’d been silently stewing and holding things in and trying not to think too hard. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and willed himself not to cry. 

But it was Bee... And she made her way over to the side of his bed and put a hand on his forehead like she was checking his temperature - like she was wiping away that kiss Lola had laid there. She pushed back his hair and looked into his face. 

“You’re both okay,” she said quietly. “And none of this is your fault.”

_It is, it is, it is -_

Andrew did cry then. He hated it. He hated feeling this way and being this exposed and vulnerable. He hated that Bee knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling about _everything_. 

But he loved her for it. So much. 

“It _is_ my fault,” he said through his teeth. Even that was too much for his cheek. Though he was still on meds he did not fucking consent to, it pulled every time he opened his mouth. It pulled even as he raised his hands and rubbed his eyes. 

_Suck it the fuck up._

_Suck it up._

_Stop this._

He couldn’t. “I chased him and chased him and brought attention to him-”

“Drink,” Bee said, holding up a cup of water. Andrew took a sip from the straw, only because he needed to shut himself up for his own mental well being, before he handed it back. She sighed heavily and set it back on the table. 

“Honey,” she started, reaching down and taking one of his hands slowly. “I know you haven’t told me this entire story. That’s fine. You can and _should_ keep the things that you’re not ready to talk about close to you. But, I know you. I know you so well, you strong, strong man...” She stroked the top of his hand with her thumb and he only just realized that his armbands were gone. The cool air kissed his skin and he wanted to _disappear_. He felt his body tense and his breathing elevate, but - “You’ll take on the responsibility, so he doesn’t have to. You’ll take on the responsibility, because you think you deserve to be punished. You don’t, Honey. You never have.”

He just shook his head, gently took back his hand, shoved his arms beneath the blankets and rolled onto his uninjured side. He felt exposed. His body hurt. His face hurt. His head hurt. His heart -

“Aaron is here with Katelyn and Bella,” _Bella -_ Bee said quieter, unmoving from the side of his bed even as he turned his back towards her. “I told them to stay back at the house for now. Would you like for them to wait until tomorrow to come by?”

Andrew nodded. He didn’t want to have this conversation with Aaron. Didn’t want to have him fuss over him and speak to his doctors. He didn’t want Bella to see him like this - not yet. Not when he looked and felt so weak with the weight of the world and his actions still pressing hard into his back. 

“What can I do for you right now, Andrew?” Bee, sweet Bee, caring Bee, gentle Bee, understanding Bee. 

_Neil._

“Neil,” he said, and with as few words as possible, “I need to see him.” 

Bee made her way to the door and in his line of sight. Before she left she locked eyes with him as she nodded, “Leave it to me.”

* * *

 

Neil was in the middle of studying the drip of the IV pumping antibiotics into his veins and wondering how fast the stand holding it would roll down the hallway, when a woman he didn’t know walked in, followed by two nurses. 

She was short, with deep smile lines, creased eyes, and shoulder-length, wavy brown hair. He could feel her warmth from where he lay and that’s why he knew exactly who she was. 

“Neil,” she said with a kind smile. “My name is Betsy Dobson. I’m Andrew’s-”

“Bee,” Neil said. It was obvious. She could be no one else. “You’re his Bee.”

She smiled a little bigger. “Yes, I’m his Bee. And for now, consider me _your_ Bee as well.” She took a step closer. “I’ve convinced the doctors that as Andrew’s mental health support, and now _yours_ , it’s in both of your best interests that you’re in a room together after such a traumatic experience. These kind nurses,” She gestured to the two beside her, “are here to take you to a new room.”

She was just turning to move out of the way of the nurses, when Neil reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned back to him with raised brows. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly - because there was a relief so immediate, so overwhelming, that he had to let her know. He was grateful. 

She smiled and patted his hand, before giving them room. 

One of the nurses pushed a wheelchair forward. “I can walk,” Neil said adamantly while he sat up and started to move from the bed. 

“Sorry,” one nurse said. “Hospital policy. We’ll get you disconnected from everything and reconnect you in the new room.” Neil ground his teeth, but held his tongue as he nodded and sat still while the different monitors were removed. The only thing left behind was the IV and they pushed the little stand alongside him. One of the nurses grabbed him by the upper arm, above the bandages, and helped him slide off the bed and into the wheelchair. 

His heart pounded as they wheeled him down the hallway. 

_So close._

_Andrew, Andrew, Andrew_

Then, there he was - already lying in a bed and getting hooked back up to monitors. There were no piercings in his face and Neil furrowed his brows at the change, when he noticed Andrew had somehow managed to procure some normal clothes. Neil was immediately ruffled. 

Or, he told himself he was. Really, it was easier to focus on something stupid and trivial, rather than his face or whatever he _really_ wanted to say... Like, _‘I’m so happy you’re okay_ ’ or _‘I couldn’t stop thinking of you_ ’ or _‘I was ready to burn down everything in this hospital and then myself, if something happened to you’._

“Hey,” Andrew looked over to him and the sight of his shoulders loosening just a bit, made Neil sure his heart would burst right out of his stupid fucking chest. “How come you get normal clothes?” He squinted. 

Andrew rolled his eyes, but Neil could tell he wasn’t even slightly annoyed. 

_He’s okay._

“Renee brought them. She put some extra in the bag for you,” he nodded to a chair and the bag on top of it. 

_Oh._

Neil looked up at the nurse who nodded his okay and grabbed the bag from the chair. They detached the IV from his arm and started to help Neil to the bathroom, but he waved him off. 

It was only once he was dressed, in his designated bed, and hooked back up to the IV that he noticed Bee was still there. The nurses left saying that someone would be in to check on them soon and bring them food, so it was down to the three of them. 

“Is there anything else you two need?” she asked, hands laced in front of her. 

Andrew shook his head. 

Neil spoke so Andrew didn’t have to ~~_because_ ~~ ~~,~~ “No. Thank you. Honestly, no one had been listening to me since I woke up.”

Her smile made her eyes crease, “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I could help.” She turned her attention to Andrew, “I’m going to go and let you two have some time to breathe. I’ll be back tomorrow with the others, if it’s okay with you. I’ll call and check first.”

Andrew held out a hand. Bee took it and squeezed and even though he didn’t say anything, Neil thought he didn’t need to. He could tell from his spot all the way on the other bed. 

Bee turned and left with a wink at Neil. 

Once she was gone, he turned to Andrew, but Andrew was already halfway out of his bed. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Neil said quickly ~~_even though his hands were itching to have him closer._ ~~ “You need to _rest._ ”

Andrew shook his head and continued moving. Somehow, between Bee and the nurses, he was no longer hooked up to anything and Neil wondered how he’d missed that. Nonetheless, Andrew made the short few steps to Neil’s bed and sat on the edge. Neil felt his body scooting over to make room, before he could convince any voice inside his head to tell him no. 

None did. 

Andrew slowly slid into the bed beside him and the careful way he arranged his body wasn’t ignored. Neil wanted to say something, but knew it would all be for naught, as Andrew lay on his side to face him - bandaged cheek facing up. 

He looked tired. There was light bruising around his eyes from where he was hit in the head, and small hole under his bottom lip where a piercing usually sat. Neil _did not stare_ at it and instead focused his attention on the bandage, then Andrew’s eyes. 

They mirrored one another.

“Hi,” he whispered. 

Andrew didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted a hand to the upturned side of Neil’s face where a bandage was secured. Only when Neil nodded, did Andrew slowly peel it off to peer at the burn underneath. His brows creased. 

“It’s fine,” Neil murmured, “They put some sort of cream on it and I can’t even feel it now.”

Andrew looked him in the eye and Neil knew it was to see if he were lying or not. 

_I’m not._

Neil lifted his own hand then and watched every movement Andrew made - from the way his eyes watched Neil go to touch his face, to how he dipped his chin down as if giving Neil permission. As gently as he possibly could, Neil pulled back his bandages as well. There were two deep slashes stitched together going down his cheek, and another two the other way that looked shallower. 

_The blood dripped down his face, across the line of his sharp jaw and stained his neck red._

Neil remembered it... he remembered the panic and not knowing what to do, remembered raising his hand to apply pressure himself, but only knowing that would do more harm. There was so much blood and

_And and and_

Neil sighed and put the bandage back in place. “Does it hurt to talk?” He asked. 

Andrew just nodded.

_My fault._

He looked down and was about to take Andrew’s hand, but Andrew ran a finger slowly down the bandages on one of his arms. They were fresh, redressed from about an hour ago and wrapped all the way around from his wrist to just below his elbow. The cuts hurt more than the burns, but

_I’ve had worse._

Neil glanced up to Andrew’s eyes that were focused on the bandages and he watched the cogs turn in his head as Andrew debated whether or not to check those too. Instead, Neil moved his arm out of the way and did as he originally intended, threading their fingers together. 

“Andrew,” he whispered. The space was thick with quiet and heavy with worry and tense with _faults_ . It took a few seconds before Andrew lifted his head and Neil heard him inhale a deep breath. “Do you want me to go...?” he asked, because he felt like he had to. After all that he’d done, after all he’d put Andrew through... Bringing death and destruction to his doorstep; getting him hurt, abducted, almost _killed -_ “I don’t want-” _Shut up, Nathaniel,_ “I _want_ to stay _here._ With you. I want to be with you, because I don’t know if I can _be_ anywhere else. But I’ll go, if you want me to. I’ve put you, your family, friends through so much and -”

Andrew unwound his hand from Neil’s and placed it first on the side of his neck, before sliding to the back. He pulled Neil close until they were forehead to forehead once again.

_Like last time._

_And the time before that._

“It’s you and me,” Andrew whispered, not opening his mouth all the way and speaking through his teeth. But Neil understood anyway.. 

 _“It’s you and me,”_ Neil might have whispered, or maybe he didn’t say it at all. But Andrew nodded and their noses brushed and Andrew shuddered and thought for just a moment that so long as Neil was beside him, he could endure whatever was thrown his way. 

 _“It’s you and me,”_ Andrew repeated and then - 

“Can I kiss you?” Neil whispered back and he didn’t know _why_. Not really. The words were just there and they felt right and he wanted to so badly. He’d never really wanted anything like he wanted this right now. 

But being so close, lying here with a man who he respected, who he cared about, who he resented for so long and would now give life and limb to protect... He wanted to just _feel_ that feeling he’d felt back in those woods. The feeling of relief and the release of the bundle in his chest that had been winding tighter and tighter since before Red Rabbits and all the way back to a little snack shack in Arizona. 

It was unexplainable really. And even if Neil tried, he likely wouldn’t be able to come up with a proper reason anyway. 

He wouldn’t have to. 

Andrew moved first and pressed their lips together so softly, it was the barest of touch. But that wasn’t _good_ enough and Neil didn’t know _why_ so he chased whatever stupid fucking _feeling_ that kept on pulling the two of them together. It was still gentle and though there was _something_ in him that wanted to press closer and feel Andrew’s mouth open beneath his own, he fought against it because 

_Now’s not the time._

Andrew’s face probably couldn’t tolerate it and someone could walk in any moment. So instead, he gently placed his own hand to the back of Andrew’s head, buried his fingers into his hair, and let himself float on the current of warm lips and warm skin and _belonging_. 

* * *

 

Tuesday dawned, and Andrew and Neil were both beyond fucking ready to get out. 

They’d been mostly left alone for the rest of Monday after Andrew essentially told everyone to stay away, and spent the good part of it lying in the same bed, sleeping and healing. They parted only when nurses came in to check their injuries and reconnect Andrew to his IV, after he slipped out of the last one. Other than that, there wasn’t much talking, but there didn’t need to be. They got out what they needed to - came to an agreement that they were going to stay and fight, that they were going to keep doing this _thing_ they were doing and they weren’t going to shy away from the _whatever_ that was between them. 

And that was hard, for Andrew at least. 

Because he knew how it sounded and he knew how it looked. He knew if this _whatever_ was released to the public, they’d jump to conclusions of his intent for the entire podcast and question his ethics and morality. But there _was_ a _thing_ there and it was indescribable and he didn’t _want_ to have to explain it to anyone.

Especially since he didn’t even know what _it_ was, besides something visceral and real and he didn’t want to fight it. 

Apparently, neither did Neil. 

Because he felt it too and it was shared through that small kiss that brought him to places no other kiss had before. Which sounded fucking stupid and moronic, but it was true. 

Anyway. 

The two of them just wanted to go the fuck home. 

Matt was the first to come in that morning. Andrew rolled his eyes, but Lloyd only nodded to him and said, “Hey, man. I’m glad you’re okay.” Andrew didn’t respond. 

~~But he respected it nonetheless.~~

He made his way to Neil’s bed and sat in the chair at the side, kicking his feet up. “How you feelin’ today, little buddy?”

Neil snorted. “Better,” he said, flicking a glance towards Andrew. Matt raised a brow and Neil just grinned a little and shrugged. Matt shook his head, but didn’t comment. 

“I’m glad,” he said, instead of whatever else he _could’ve_ said. “Hopefully, they let you out soon. Dan said Abby is coming this morning to make sure the cops don’t bother you again.”

Neil smacked his forehead, then immediately shook his hand out as he hissed in pain. Andrew started to move, but Neil waved him off. “I’m good-” He said quickly, shaking his head. “Sorry, just,” he looked to Matt. “I totally forgot. I feel like an asshole. How was your date with Dan...?”

_We’ve been a bit busy._

But Neil _I’m fine_ Josten would _of course_ focus on a stupid fucking date. 

Matt seemed to think so too, because his brows rose and he looked surprised, until he laughed too and shook his head. “I mean, you’ve been a bit distracted with the whole _almost dying_ thing. We’ll talk about it later, don’t worry about it now. Seriously.”

Neil just stared at him and Andrew had to admit, he was a bit curious too - if Wilds had told him to eat shit or not. 

However, Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. His lips twitched and he burst out laughing. 

“It was fucking amazing, man. Like. Ugh.” He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “We clicked immediately. We ate and drank and then Brown Skin Girl by Beyonce came on and we danced and Neil...” Matt put a hand over his heart and closed his eyes. “We locked eyes and it was like we were on another fucking planet-”

_Gross._

Matt sighed. “I swear, I’m calling it now. I’m going to fucking marry her.”

The smile on Neil’s face was gentle and the sight of it nearly sent Andrew across the room again. He wanted to get that smile out of Neil. _He_ wanted to be the one to bring upon whatever feeling Neil was feeling and 

_And and and_

“I’m so fucking happy for you, it’s about time.” His smile got a bit wider and Andrew wanted to look away - but couldn’t. “What are you guys going to do when you have to go back to New York?”

Matt didn’t sigh or deflate. His eyes stayed wide and _open_ and _stupid_ as he shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “I dunno. We didn’t exactly get around to that, but to be honest? I’ll do whatever I have to. Move here in the off season and keep my apartment when we’re playing - whatever it is. Maybe I’ll see if she wants to move to New York, but that’s not fair. She has a career here that she loves and friends and,” Matt just shrugged again. “I have no fucking clue, Neil. But I’m not giving up without a fight, you know?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, glancing back at Andrew. And any criticisms or judgement of Lloyd flew right out of his head because _yeah._ He did know. So, he nodded. And Neil spoke what Andrew probably never would. “I know.”

“Knock, knock!” Andrew quickly looked away only to find Bee walking into the room, followed by Aaron, Katelyn, and Bella. 

Aaron did a quick once over of him and Andrew could feel as his eyes landed on the bruising around his own and the bandage on his cheek. Andrew shook his head and Aaron glared at him briefly for the refusal to _fuss_. He opened his mouth to say something, but was ultimately cut off by an, “Unkie Andwew!”

Andrew’s heart clenched and he held out his arms without even thinking about it. Automatically, Aaron dumped Bella right into them and Andrew hugged her tightly to his chest. He breathed her in and almost cried again, if not for his force of will screaming at him to keep himself together. 

“Bells,” he said quietly. 

She pulled back to look at him, red hair a mess as always with a yellow bow tied askew in her long halo of curls. He pushed it away from her face as she pouted, “Unkie, you hurt.” 

“Uncle Andrew is going to be just fine baby. The doctors are taking good care of him, right Andrew?” Katelyn asked him, pointedly. 

“Yes,” Andrew told her. It pulled at his stitches but he didn’t care. He’d been going without the bandages to let the wounds breathe, but once Bee called to let him know they were all coming, he put one back on. He didn’t want to scare Bella. The stitches were still fresh. “Don’t worry.” He tapped her on the nose and her giggle that followed made him want to hug her all over again. 

Finally, he lifted his head and looked over to Katelyn to give her a nod and was instead met by a large and very obvious, pregnant bump. He looked up at her, brows furrowed, then over at Aaron where he definitely wasn’t picking through his file. Aaron looked up, because of course he did, and shrugged. 

“You’ve had so much going on, there hasn’t been a real chance to tell you,” Katelyn said, smile that Bella got from her widening on her lips. “But, I’m cookin’ another one for you, FUA.”

Andrew turned back to Bella and put on an excited face, because he was actually excited. Easter, he was reminded how much he loved Bella when Aaron and Katelyn approached him to be their _back up_ , and for the past few months, he missed her like a lost limb while he was across the country. Then, just two days ago, he thought he’d never see her again. 

Now, there will be another. Another child he could give his all to and that he could coddle and make sure lived the absolute best life possible because they fucking _deserved_ it. 

It was jarring, really. For most of his life he thought he would have nothing - no family, no friends, no nothing. Now, here he was at 26 and his family was only getting bigger. From Bee to Nicky, Aaron and Katelyn and Bella, the Foxhole network and King, _Neil -_

His face hurt like a bitch, but it was worth the smile Bella gave him in return. 

“I’m gonna be a big sister!”

“Little brother or sister?” _Or whatever they choose to be_ , Andrew asked. His stitches stretched more and more, but he ignored the pain. He wanted to talk to her. 

“Sister!” She said, clapping her hands. “I so excited!”

He hugged her again. He couldn’t help that either. She was everything good about this fucked up world. 

“Due at the end of September,” Aaron said, setting down his file at the small table attached to the end of the bed. Andrew nodded and looked over to Neil - only to find he and Matt were watching them closely. 

With a deep breath, he rubbed Bella’s back and said close to her ear, “Bella,” She watched him with big hazel eyes that matched his own. He nodded towards Neil. “He’s a friend. Would you like to meet him?”

Bella turned her head over her shoulder, then curled her small body into Andrew and buried her face in his chest. She peeked through her curls at Neil shyly, which was funny, when you knew how forward Bella really was. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. 

Andrew somehow managed to slide off the bed without putting her down, and carried her over to Neil. 

“This is Neil,” Andrew said in her ear.

Neil smiled at her, “Hi,” he said. “It’s uh...” He glanced to Andrew as if for strength or confirmation or something else entirely, “It’s nice to meet you,” he settled. “Your Uncle Andrew has told me so much about you.”

Bella turned her eyes up at Andrew then and he shrugged. “You’re my best friend. Of course I told him.”

And that’s what cracked her. She giggled and it was sweet and perfect and wrinkled her little freckles on her nose. “You not my best fren though. That’s Yucy, but I still yove you.” So matter of fact, so blunt. 

Andrew nodded in understanding. “Yes, Lucy must be quite the friend. I’ll find a way to survive. It’s okay, Bells. I love you, too.”

Bella wiggled to be put down, so Andrew obliged. She walked right up to Neil’s bed - trepidation completely disappearing as she placed her hands on the side of his bed. “You hurt, too?”

“Just a bit,” Neil nodded. “I’m fine, too though.” 

Bella nodded seriously and walked around the bed to Matt. 

“You hurt, too?”

Matt laughed and shook his head. “Nope. Fit as a fiddle. I’m just here to take care of this knucklehead,” he said, nodding towards Neil. 

Bella looked back at him and nodded seriously again. She headed over towards Andrew and took his hand. 

“I take care of this cucklened.”

Everyone laughed, because Bella was unbearably cute - but the loudest one from the doorway. Andrew turned to look as Nicky came striding through the room. He quickly picked her up, swung her around, and settled her on his hip to face Andrew. His warm eyes were quickly moving over him, scattering around from head to toe before he inhaled quickly and met Andrew’s eyes. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, nearly breathless. “I want to hug you,” he held Bella close, as if she were Andrew’s stand-in for the moment. “But I shall refrain, _only_ because cute doctors are my weakness and I know they, _and_ you, would kick me for it. So you best thank them.” He was teasing, of course, but there was a tightness in his eyes that said it was all put on. Dark circles rested underneath and Andrew knew Nicky must not have slept for days. 

Andrew wasn’t the sympathetic type, but he did press his lips together and nod his head in acknowledgement, even as he rolled his eyes for show. He couldn’t spare anymore words anyway. His face was fucking on fire.

Nicky seemed to get the hint and nodded back, before turning to Neil. 

“Hey, cutie,” he said with a wink and Andrew _did not_ grind his teeth. “I’m Nicky, Andrew’s cousin.” Then, as if knowing Andrew _was_ in fact, going to kick him, he looked back to Andrew and the rest of the room, then back at Neil as he gestured vaguely around with one hand. “My husband Erik is around here somewhere. He was afraid there were too many people in here, so he’s in the gift shop, I think.”

Neil just nodded, Aaron was murmuring something to Bee, and Katelyn was now the one flipping through his file on the table. 

Andrew opted to focus on Neil, who he could only imagine was wondering what to make of Nicky. 

“Neil,” he said, introducing himself to fill what was going to be, an awkward silence. 

Not anymore, because Nicky cocked his head and Andrew knew _it_ was about to click. “You look familiar... Have you known And-” His eyes went wide and

_There it is._

He knew Nicky had been following the podcast - had seen the pictures. And with Neil’s red hair and blue eyes, he looked more like himself than ever. 

“Oh my god-”

Neil shifted uncomfortably and Andrew decided it was enough. He pushed Nicky a little to get his attention and nodded to the door. “Talk later,” he said. 

Nicky looked between them for a few seconds, before nodding and then landing on Matt. “ _Oh,_ ” he said, smile turning up on his face again. “And who are y-” This time, Andrew really did kick Nicky - only with his socked foot, but it was a kick in the shin nonetheless - and Nicky mumbled a quick, “Ow, Andrew...” With a click of his tongue, a dramatic _ugh_ , he finally turned and handed Bella over to Bee. “Fine. I’ll just go and find Erik... It was nice to meet you, Neil and Neil’s attractive friend!” he called over his shoulder and headed to the door. 

Which, to be honest, was growth. Five years ago, Nicky would’ve pushed and pushed and wouldn’t have known when to stop. But alas, he disappeared. Neil replied, “You, too.” Matt laughed, and Andrew let out a breath as he shook his head. He looked over at Neil and said sorry with his eyes. Neil just shrugged and smiled a grateful - albeit also _amused_ \- half smile. 

“I think we’ll all go,” Bee said. “Everyone is staying at the house, so call if you need anything, okay?”

Andrew nodded. Matt stood. “I think I’ll go, too. Let you rest a bit,” He addressed Neil and even glanced towards Andrew. “I feel better knowing you two are in the same room.” _Is that so, Lloyd?_ Neil just nodded. 

Matt was the last one out, following Bee and already striking up conversation as Aaron mumbled something about, “...Have to find out who his doctors is...” and Bella waving enthusiastically over Bee’s shoulder saying, “Bye Unkie! Feel bettow!”

Andrew’s heart swelled as he watched them go, then heard a quiet, “Come here,” from his side.

Neil patted the space beside him as he scooted to the edge and lifted the sheets. Andrew couldn’t and didn’t want to resist as he slipped into the space and lay to face Neil, both of their wounds facing up. 

They lay like that for a while and Andrew idly noted how much easier it was to breathe when sharing his space. Which, was an odd, off thing... Because before Neil, he couldn’t stand the thought of being this close for any other reason besides, well. But here, now? He felt whole, with his hand between them, palm up and Neil’s slotted on top. 

Andrew was just thinking how he could probably fall asleep like that, when someone cleared their throat. 

Andrew sat up slightly to see the doctor standing there. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Just wanted to let you both know, you’ll be able to go home today.” _Fucking finally._ “We’ll send you with antibiotics and some burn cream for Mr. Josten. You’ll both need to follow up in a few days to have the stitches removed and to make sure everything is healing correctly.”

They both nodded understanding. 

“Someone will be by to discharge you with specific care instructions.”

“Thank you,” Neil managed before she left. Andrew laid back down. 

“Someone else might come in,” Neil said, but Andrew just shrugged his shoulders. It’s not like they had their dicks out and to be honest? He didn’t care right now. This was what felt right. So, he closed his eyes and basked in it for as long as he could.

* * *

 

Neil felt like he’d just closed his eyes after watching Andrew’s flutter shut and breath even out, when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He quickly startled awake and in turn, so did Andrew. Andrew’s hand was curled in a first, ready to hit whomever it was, but they both moaned and grabbed various parts of sore bodies in unison as Neil realized Renee stood over them. 

“Sorry,” she said in a whisper. “The rest of the team is on their way up and I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be like this when they got here...” She glanced at the space between them. 

Neil looked to Andrew and Andrew looked to his ribs, before he sighed and sat up. He didn’t leave Neil’s bed, but he did take his legs out from the covers and swing them over the edge, before grabbing his glasses from the side table and putting them on. 

Everyone came in at once with balloons and flowers and teddy bears, and Neil couldn’t help but laugh. They looked ridiculous, but happy all the same. _No_ . _Relieved._ Seth had a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear and Matt stood towards the back, but taller than them all with one hand at the small of Dan’s back. 

“Well, well,” Seth said, eyeing them. “You two lookin’ pretty cozy.”

“Yes,” Neil automatically said before he could stop himself. Slowly pushing himself up to sit, he winced only slightly as he mumbled, “So fucking cozy with cuts and burns, broken bones and bruises. I feel like a million fuckin’ bucks...”

Seth’s mouth fell open and Neil would’ve felt bad, if not for the pain as he settled himself and sighed at the exertion. Allison stepped forward anyway and took the attention away as she rolled her eyes at Seth and set a bag on the side table. 

“I had Dion order and overnight these from Miami.” _Dion..._ _Ah._ The man from the lounge that spoke to Andrew about _‘talking somewhere else’_. Even Neil caught on that innuendo and at the time, it bothered him and he didn’t even know why. Now...? He might have had an inkling -

“This is the absolute best scar cream money can buy,” Allison continued. “I’m fucking serious. I don’t know if it’s made out of stem cells or fuckin’ what, but it’ll definitely help.”

Andrew nodded and Neil said thank you, or tried to, but Wymack and Abby stepped into the room, breathless and wide eyed. Abby hurried over to the bed and said, “The FBI are on their way up and they have local PD as backup. Don’t say _anything_ , do you understand?” She looked between the two of them with a heavy focus on Andrew. “Let me handle this.” 

Neil glanced towards Andrew, only to find him glaring at the door as he nodded. 

Not a minute later, two FBI agents in suits walked in, flanked by three police officers who took a menacing step into the room. The reaction was immediate and sobering. 

The group turned to face them, and Matt and Seth both immediately put their hands up, eyes down to the floor. 

Andrew stood and Neil felt whatever had swelled in his chest in the time he’d laid with Andrew, deflate. 

* * *

 

Like a unit, everyone turned and moved to the end of the bed when the cops walked in. They stood in a tight group now and the sight of Matt and Seth with their hands up was honestly more than Andrew could handle. He hated Pigs on a good day, but seeing their effect on _his_ team?

Abby stepped up next to him and placed a cautious hand on his arm before he could say anything. He pulled it away out of reflex, but didn’t move from beside her. 

“Can we help you?” she asked, voice sweet as honey, but sharp as a blade. 

“I’m Agent Gilmore and this,” he motioned towards his partner, “is Agent Smith. We’re with the FBI.” He held up his badge. “And we have a few questions for Mr. Minyard and Mr. Josten.”

“You need police presence for a few questions?” Abby asked them, head tilted and hands on her hips. Bee began buzzing in his ear, soft, but there. 

“We were told they weren’t cooperative with local PD. We just wanted to make sure there weren’t any incidents.”

_Incidents?_

“We don’t have shit to say to you,” Neil said from behind Andrew. “We already tried and your Agent Browning told us we were full of shit. Before any of this fucking happened we-”

Abby turned around and gave Neil a look. Surprisingly, he closed his mouth and settled on glaring. 

“Are my clients suspects? Are they under arrest?” Abby asked. 

“Not at the moment. But, someone is dead and evidence points to Mr. Minyard having killed her.” Agent _Gilmore_ looked towards him, brows raised. 

Andrew just raised a brow back, even as everyone turned to look at him.  He said nothing. One, it would hurt too much, and two, he didn’t have shit to say to these fucks. 

~~And three, Abby would kill him.~~

Agent Smith scoffed while Gilmore hummed to himself and looked down at his notes. He moved on. “Seth Gordon. Does Seth Gordon happen to be here?”

Seth lowered his hands slowly, along with Matt, and glared at the agent. He didn’t say anything.

_Buzz_

“Who wants to know?” Allison asked, hands on her hips. “What do you want with him?”

“Are _you_ Seth Gordon?” Smith asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“We’re _all_ Seth Gordon,” Allison said with her chin raised. “You’re talking to _all of us._ ”

Smith and Gilmore, along with the pigs, just raised a brow at her, while Gilmore flipped up a page on the folder he was holding. “I don’t know. From this mugshot, looks like _you’re_ him,” he said with a pointed nod at Seth. 

“The fuck you got my mugshot for?” Seth asked, chin pulled back and eyes squinted. Allison angled her body in front of his. “I haven’t been arrested for anything in 7 god damn years and you gon’ walk in here with my fuckin’ mugshot?”

“Hey man,” Matt said quietly, sidling up to seth. “Calm down, be cool...”

“You be cool,” Seth looked at Matt like he was crazy. “They not here pullin’ your fuckin’ mugshots-”

“Mr. Gordon,” Gilmore spoke loudly, cutting him off. If Andrew weren’t so used to suits, he would’ve been intimidated. Instead, he was just mad. So mad that Bee began to burn. “I understand you’re in charge of editing the audio for The Foxhole Network, is that correct?”

_Enough._

Andrew moved to the front of the group and hissed at the agent, “Fuck off,” ignoring the twince in his cheek. Abby let out a quiet groan. 

“Everyone in this room is under _my_ legal counsel,” She said, stepping in front of him. “You do not talk to, or question, any of them without me present.”

Gilmore turned to Abby and gave her a slow up and down. “Forgive me, but are you not present now? If you insist on puffing your chest,” he flicked his eyes down towards Abby’s chest, “please do so in a manner consistent with the laws of physics.”

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_

Wymack started forward, but Abby put a hand on his chest before he could get anywhere. That didn’t shut him up though. “Now you wait a goddamn minute,” he snarled, pointing a finger to the gathered group of law enforcement. “Watch the way you talk to my fucking wife or-”

“David, stop,” Abby pleaded. 

“Threatening a member of the FBI?” Gilmore jotted something down. “What was your name?”

Andrew looked over to see Dan had pulled her phone out and begun recording. He didn’t know where to stand in this situation. It wasn’t lost on him that a team consisting of predominantly people of color, were face to face with police, and one of his own was being directly called out. He would be damned before he saw Seth alone in a room with any of these fuckers and fuck, privilege had to count for fucking something. 

“Mr. Josten and Mr. Minyard have not been discharged as of yet,” Abby continued, chin out and eyes blazing. “They will not be questioned until they are.”

“Fine. But, we still need to speak with Mr. Gordon regarding the audio aspect of the podcast called _Red Rabbits_. He isn’t a suspect in anything or in any sort of trouble. We simply need to understand the editing process.”

“Bullshit,” Seth muttered. “You’re going to try and get me on something. Why the fuck would you have my record if it was just to ‘talk to me’?”

Matt put a hand on his shoulder and Allison stuck close to his side. On her other, Renee had her hand clasped between her own and Dan stood in front of Matt with her phone up. 

Andrew could see a muscle in Seth’s jaw tick, and he was suddenly incredibly grateful that Abby was here right now. He didn’t want to fight Seth’s fight for him - but he also didn’t want to see Seth treated as less than a person by fucking pigs in suits. 

Seth finally just gave a tight nod, and he and Abby were led out of the room. An officer reached for his arm and Abby snapped before he could. 

“Don’t touch my client. He’s coming willingly and there’s no reason for you to lay a hand on him.”

The officer backed off. Only once he was out the door, did she turn to look at Andrew and Neil. “Don’t say anything unless I’m there. If you get discharged and they take you before I come back, keep your mouths shut. Understood?”

Neil and Andrew both nodded. Andrew sat back on the bed and watched them go as Neil took his hand from where it was in his lap and gave it a squeeze. 

Andrew squeezed back. 

But, it wasn’t like he was surprised. Not for this, not for them, not for any of it. Because he knew he’d have to give a statement eventually and he knew that someone was dead. Mental or not, he’d killed Lola - he’d driven the knife into her belly and although he’d do it a thousand fucking times more if it meant saving Neil’s life, it was something he was eventually going to have to answer for. 

He knew that. 

Finally, he dragged his eyes over to the team. They were murmuring amongst themselves - worried about Seth and what might happen if the FBI both didn’t get what they wanted, or if they _did_. Lloyd had folded Dan into his chest and propped his chin on her head. She looked small next to him, which was something Andrew had never thought about her. 

He suddenly felt like he and Neil were on an island. Separate and watching from a distance. 

“You should go,” Andrew said suddenly, standing before his brain registered what his legs were doing. “Abby has Seth and they’re not going to let us leave yet.” 

He watched as one by one they nodded, but knew it was only because all of them were just as exhausted as he and Neil were. 

“We’re standing by,” Dan said to him. “Whatever you need, we’ll be here okay? If there’s something you want us to tell the listeners, let us know.”

“I will.”

They filed out, but not without small words of useless comfort to each other. 

Renee was bringing up the rear when Andrew waved her over. 

“Where are my armbands?” Andrew spoke through his teeth, barely moving his lips. She’d packed him and Neil long sleeved shirts, but they couldn’t compare to the familiar comfort,

_The protection._

“The cops have them...” She frowned. “I asked for your clothes when I got here and was told everything had been taking as evidence. I’m sorry... I don’t think they’ll give them back until all of this is over. But, I’ve already ordered you a replacement pair. Hopefully they’re the same as your old ones.” 

_Well._

He glanced back towards Neil, who was slowly sinking back into the bed with discomfort written all over his face. He just nodded and decided not to fuss. Waving it away, he put his focus back on Renee because although he hated not having them, hated that the fucking pigs were in possession of his very expensive knives ~~_that won’t look good for my case. Welp_ ~~, they came secondary to what he needed from her. 

“There’s something I need you to do for me.”

* * *

 

A few hours later, Andrew and Neil found themselves being escorted out of the hospital and into a black SUV with tinted windows. Neil _did not flinch_ at how similar it felt to the sedan Lola had shoved him and Andrew into, _did not_ close his eyes against the memories and swallow down the bile rising in his throat. ~~_No._ ~~ Instead, he focused on Andrew beside him and the fact that Abby wasn’t back.

_She’s with Seth. They’re probably at the same place we’re headed._

~~_Probably._ ~~

They sat in the back quietly. Neil looked out the dark windows and wondered where this was going to lead them - not the _car_ , but the FBI. He had no illusions about them or law enforcement in general. His experiences had been such that he didn’t know any officers that _actually_ wanted to help and you know, do good. Especially not on the federal level. 

~~_They probably did. You just have shit luck._ ~~

_Yeah._

Andrew nudged his shoulder and Neil turned his head to look at him. 

“I have everything on tape,” Andrew said, and it took Neil a moment to realize that **1.** Andrew was speaking German, and **2.** Neil had no idea what he meant. 

“You have what on tape?” Neil replied in the same language. It felt weird. He hadn’t spoken it in so long. 

_Trivial._

“ _Her._ ” Andrew didn’t say _her_ name, but Neil knew he meant Lola. “I had my recorder in my pocket and stashed it under a bush before we were taken away. I sent Renee to go get it and hide it.”

Neil felt his eyes go wide and his heart pulse, “You’re fucking amazing...” he whispered. 

Andrew scoffed, but Neil could see the color rise in Andrew’s pale face, even around the deep cuts that Neil knew had to be killing him. His own burn hurt, but it didn’t pull like stitched cuts would. The doctors had given Andrew some sort of topical cream that would numb the pain since Andrew refused any oral medication, but he knew it still had to be painful. He didn’t put his piercings back in yet either, and Neil idly thought he looked so much like the boy he’d met all those years ago in the Grand Canyon. Neil wanted to take his glasses off and live in the past for just a moment. 

He resisted and focused on the task at hand. 

“So, we’ll be able to show them...?” Neil started slowly and when Andrew just stared back at him, he nodded slowly to himself as he put it together. “They’ll know that _she_ was working for someone and-” he stopped, brows furrowed and looked into Andrew’s eyes. There was something there and it was clear and Neil read it easily ~~**_I’ve gotten good at that_ _._ ** ~~ “You want to hold onto this...” Andrew just nodded. “We have a bargaining chip.”

* * *

 

They ended up at the same agency in Columbia where they’d initially tried to get help, and were immediately separated. Neil tried to argue. Andrew backed him up by glaring menacingly at anyone and everyone - he didn’t think his face could take the heated debate that sat burning at the tip of his tongue right now.

It didn’t work.

They were still taken into two separate rooms down the hall from each other. 

Andrew sat at a table and sighed. He at least wished he had his phone. It was back at the studio. He’d left it on his desk when everything went down and through all the chaos of the past few days, no one (not even himself) had thought to bring it to him. Which, to be honest, was probably for the best. Knowing him, and definitely knowing _himself_ , he would use it to piss the feds off and they’d just end up confiscating it anyway. 

He was about to lay his head on his folded arms to take a nice, albeit painful nap, when someone walked in. It was _Agent_ Gilmore. 

“Mr. Minyard,” he said. “Nice of you to join us.”

Andrew said nothing and would continue to say nothing until Abby got there. The agent didn’t seem deterred. 

~~_Yet._ ~~

“This is just a formality to get your statement,” Gilmore tapped to straighten the small stack of papers inside a folder he had on the table as he sat. “The case has been turned over to us, the Federal Bureau of Intelligence,” ~~_could just fucking say F B fucking I_ ~~ ~~,~~ “since the _victim_ was on the most wanted list.”

_Victim?_

Andrew couldn’t help it. He felt his face twist into one of disgust and immediately sucked in a harsh breath against the pain. But still, “Victim?”

Gilmore looked up at Andrew. “Yes, victim. As in she was killed and is now dead.”

Andrew didn’t say anything else. His face hurt too much and he needed to wait for Abby. Honestly, he deserved a medal for this kind of fucking discipline. Clenching his jaw together, he swallowed down the acid in his throat at just the _thought_ of _Lola_ as a fucking _victim_. The mere thought made his god damned skin crawl. 

_The only thing she was a fucking victim of, was instanity._

“Walk me through what happened.”

Andrew rose his eyes up at Gilmores stupid fucking, boring ass face, and said nothing. 

“Can you tell me what time you and Mr. Josten came into contact with Lola and Romero Malcolm?”

And continued saying nothing. 

“Can you tell me why you killed her?”

_Yeah. She tried to fucking kill Neil. Then me. Fucking -_

“It says here,” he flipped open the folder and looked down at the papers. “That this isn’t your only run in with law enforcement, is it? When you were...” he referred down to the page, “14, you were convicted of a breaking and entering charge, and did time in juvie for two years, correct? And after that, you put four men in the hospital after an assault. That time it says it was in self defense. You did no time, mandatory counseling...” he tapped a pen against the paper and nodded slowly. 

Andrew clamped whatever he wanted to say down. Even as he clenched his teeth around the words that were threatening to push through, he knew none of them would help. He knew what Gilmore was fucking doing, first it was to get to him, to push him to talk. Now it was - 

He knew where Gilmore was going next, what angle he was trying to take. Fucked up, Andrew Minyard. 26 year old man, who’s been in trouble with the law before, did time, ~~_got away with it the second_ ~~ ~~,~~ narrowly avoided a third, and helped get a child molester behind bars. 

He was trying to bait him. It wouldn’t work. Andrew refused to rise to it. 

Gilmore leaned back in his seat and eyed Andrew closely. 

“You’re not under arrest, you know,” He started, rather than moving forward, voice softening. _I’m not fucking stupid._ “We know _this_ was self defense. She would’ve killed the both of you if you hadn’t killed her first. All we need is a statement for the investigation. Your attorney doesn’t need to be present for that.”

Andrew felt the beginning of a smile start to curl on his lips, _because this pig in a suit thought he was so fucking_ **_slick_ ** . But, he forced it back down and instead finally let his brow raise. He wanted to laugh in Agent _fucking_ Gilmores face. 

_Nice try, asshole._

Abby was escorted in and she didn’t even pause as she took in the room and took a seat beside Andrew without any words or fanfare.

_Finally_

Once she was sufficiently settled she tilted her head, “Trying to question my client without his attorney present, after I explicitly indicated I would be here? My, my Gilmore. You do like to test my patience.”

Gilmore smiled a slick smile that made Andrew roll his eyes. “Of course not, Ms. Winfield. Merely trying to get ahead. Now,``he tapped the folder. “If your client could just answer a few questions and provide a statem-”

“No.”

Gilmore dropped his fake smile. “Excuse me?”

“My _client_ has serious facial injury and as such, it’s difficult for him to speak without being in a considerable amount of pain. He will _write_ his statement down for you in his own words and you can use that. If you have any questions, you can ask them at a later date when he’s more healed and able to communicate effectively.”

Agent Gilmore looked perturbed. He sat there for several seconds, staring the two of them down, before he nodded slowly to whatever was in his head. “Right.” He said bluntly, but ultimately gave in. He wasn’t going to win against her, and it was written all over his face. 

He took out a form from the folder and slid it across the table to Andrew, along with a pen. 

“Write _everything_ down. Names, times, dates, all of it. Sign it. Knock on the door when you’re done and someone will come to collect you.”

He got up to leave, tucking the folder underneath his arm, when Abby spoke up. 

“We’re going to need two forms,” She said, sweetly. Andrew noted how she purposely waited to ask and let the smirk he’d wanted to release finally curl on his lips. 

_Impressive._

Gilmore clenched his jaw and pulled out another one for her. 

Right as he was about to open the door, Abby spoke up again. 

“Oh, and Agent?” He turned to look at her. “Don’t try this with Mr. Josten. He may be able to speak, but you or anyone else in this building need to wait for his representation to be in the room.”

The agent smiled at Abby, only this time it was indulgent. Like she was a child. “Of course, Ms. Winfield. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He left the room. 

“Asshole,” Andrew mumbled once the door was closed. 

“Immeasurably,” Abby sighed. “Now, I have two copies here, because you’re going to write this _twice_ . Take this,” She slid one of the papers over to him, “And write down _exactly_ what happened, as you remember it. Try to include dates and time and names. I’m going to go through it when you’re done and tell you what needs to be changed.” She turned to face him completely, eyes focused on his face. “Did you kill the woman?” It was blunt. 

Andrew looked her in the eyes and nodded. 

_And I’d do it again._

Abby didn’t even blink. “When you get to that part, you need to _strongly_ clarify, that you were afraid for both your life and Neil’s. You’re the obvious victim in this case, Andrew. These assholes won’t even be able to get a conviction to hold up in court - no matter how many times they threaten it. So don’t worry, okay?”

Andrew nodded again. Abby handed him the pen and he did what he did best. 

He wrote. 

* * *

 

Neil was so zoned out, that by the time anyone walked into the room, he startled when the door opened. They’d kept him in there for what felt like hours.

~~_Probably just one._ ~~

Agent Gilmore entered, followed by Abby. 

“How’s Andrew?” he asked her right away. She smiled at him, though it was tight. 

It was probably supposed to be reassuring. 

“He’s fine. Writing his statement, since he’s having trouble speaking right now.” 

Neil nodded as Abby took a seat beside him. _Good._ He was glad Andrew had an excuse not to talk to him. 

And he was glad that _he_ could.

Agent Gilmore sat across from them both and tapped a pen atop a folder on the table. 

“Mr. Josten,” he started. “We need a statement from you regarding the events of early Monday morning. As I’ve told all of you, _repeatedly_ , you’re not suspects at the _moment_. We just need a statement to start piecing together events.”

Neil raised a brow at him. “At the moment? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Someone was killed-”

“Yeah, someone who was trying to kill me and - and Andrew.” He refrained from picking at one of his bandages. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to charge us with something-”

“Neil,” Abby interrupted. “Remember to say as little as possible. Answer all questions straight forward, but do _not_ elaborate more than necessary.” 

Neil ground his teeth, but nodded. Agent Gilmore just rose his brows and jumped back in. 

“Before we get to what happened, Mr. Josten, can you tell me why I can’t find any information on you? It’s almost like you don’t exist at all. Why do you think that is?”

_Really?_

Neil laughed. He actually laughed out loud. His lips peeled back from his teeth and his cheek twinged with pain, but he ignored it as he nodded slowly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Neil,” Abby tried. She really did. 

But again Agent Gilmore jumped right in, “I’m not. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that false identification is a felony-”

His father was known for outbursts. Known for a short temper and a hard time keeping it in check. Neil’s came out in certain situations. Quiet and usually well mannered, he finally allowed himself to pick at one of the bandages on his arm when he said, “Let me stop you right there. Andrew and I came into this fucking office, sat down with an Agent _fucking_ Browning, and were basically laughed out of the fucking building!” He kept on _smiling_ and he knew it was ugly, he knew it twisted his lips the way _his_ did. But he didn’t care. “We _tried_ to tell you what was happening. We _tried_ to get help. But we were called liars. And you know what? I told that Agent my real name. He refused to believe me - so forgive me, _Agent Gilmore_ , if I don’t feel like sharing at the moment.”

There was a moment of silence and Neil was glad for it. He inhaled a deep breath and sat back in his seat with only a bit of pain that he hid well. 

Abby slowly looked to the Agent and held his stare for those few seconds before she asked slowly, “These men came here for help, and your people turned them away?”

For the first time since Neil laid eyes on him, Gilmore looked ruffled. 

_Checkmate._

“We have no record of that,” Gilmore said, opening the folder and flicking through papers. “When did you come here?”

“Saturday.”

He visibly relaxed and that cocky fucking look returned, “We’re closed on Saturdays.” he closed the folder as if in punctuation. “The doors would’ve been locked.“

_Mm._

“They were. We called the number at the door and told someone we had info. They sent Agent Browning and he fucked up. Now, we’re _mighty_ reluctant to give you anything.” Neil sighed as if to say _‘what a shame’_. 

“Doesn’t seem so smart,” Gilmore started, his tone changing, his tune altering to something that one could perceive as dangerous.  

To someone other than Neil, that is. 

“When we’re the ones that can make this go away.” _Lovely. In the business of making shit disappear, Agent Gilmore?_ “We’re the ones that can help you out, Mr. Josten. If you have pertinent information regarding Lola or Nathan Wesninski’s inner circle, that is.”

The smile that had slowly settled, sharpened once more. He felt it cruel and cold and he let it _stay_. He let him see. “No, I don’t think so. I think there’s someone else out there who has a higher stake in this... And I think those people are pulling your strings,” he pointed. It hurt, but he spread his fingers out on the table nonetheless. “In fact, I think they’d be more interested in what I have to say.”

“Agent Gilmore,” Abby cut in. “Ask my client your questions about Monday morning and be done. Unless you have a warrant for his arrest, all of this is unnecessary. Ask your questions and let him and Mr. Minyard go and continue their recovery.”

* * *

 

Abby and Neil walked into the ‘reception’ of the Agency a couple of hours after Andrew was done. Neil looked exhausted - drawn and pale. Andrew stood. He wanted to reach out, hold his hand or put an arm around him maybe...

But he wasn’t sure where they stood on that just yet.

~~_Or anything, really_ .  ~~

_“I want to stay here. With you. I want to be with you, because I don’t know if I can be anywhere else.”_

**_“I want to stay here. With you. I want to be with you...”_ **

Anyway. 

Andrew stood and followed them outside silently. They got in the back of Abby’s car, because his was still at the studio. 

“Do you want me to take you home? Or the studio?” Abby asked as she started the car. “The rest of the team is there with Seth right now”

“Studio,” Andrew said automatically. Might as well get this shit over with so they could try to move on. 

Neil was quiet, withdrawn. He turned to look at Andrew who had been burning a hole into the side of his head and hadn’t even realized it, until Neil smiled a small smile at him. Andrew reached out then to squeeze the back of his neck and Neil sighed heavily. 

-

The drive from Columbia to Palmetto felt like forever. 

Or at least longer than it did on the way there. 

As soon as Abby parked, Andrew made a quick survey of his Maserati to make sure, **1.** It was still there, and **2.** No one fucked with it. Then, it was straight into the building, up the elevator, and stopped before TFN’s office. Abby went ahead of them and though Andrew felt like he couldn’t make it in fast enough, he gently grabbed hold of Neil’s long sleeve and tugged him to pause too. “We’ll make this quick,” he said quietly. Neil just nodded and Andrew didn’t know why he was hesitating. Neil obviously noticed because he took hold of Andrew’s hand, gave it a squeeze, then opened TFN’s doors himself. 

The team was gathered together in the lounge. Andrew and Neil didn’t make it three steps, before Sir and King jumped off the couch and came to greet their respective people. Andrew bent to pick up King, holding her close to his chest as she stretched her head up to rub against his chin. 

_Thank you, old friend..._

It was when he heard Neil greet Sir with a wince at the end, that he realized he couldn’t bend down to do the same because of his ribs. Holding King with one arm, he lifted Sir to great her human. Neil glanced at him gratefully, small smile on his lips as he carefully took Sir into his arms with great care not to move her in such a way that she’d press too hard into his wounds, and pressed her to his own chest. 

After a few moments of breathing their comfort in, settling down, and adjusting to what may be a new normal, they entered the lounge and sat side by side on one of the couches. Abby was already seated beside Seth, who looked pissed. 

* * *

 

Neil didn’t blame him. 

Matt was next to Dan, leaning his elbows on his knees with eyes filled with concern and -

Andrew opened his mouth, but Neil put a hand on his leg to stop him. There was no reason for Andrew to speak more than necessary and he knew Andrew would take all this on - talk for an entire hour if it meant sparing Neil from having to do it. Which was why there was no way Neil was going to let him, especially not when it put himself through so much pain over something he could, _should_ be able to handle. 

Neil cleared his throat. “I know you’ve all pieced together most of it,” his voice sounded weak. It still hurt from screaming. Nonetheless, “I know you’re all probably worried and upset that I brought this here, but just give me a minute to expla-”

“No one is mad at y’all,” Allison interrupted, shaking her head. She sighed, “We’re all just looking for an explanation and honestly? I know you don’t know me like that, but myself and everyone else in this room, just want you to be okay.”

Everyone nodded. 

Even Seth, who set aside his grinding teeth to frown at Neil and Andrew. 

“Seth,” Neil started, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. It was fucked up the way they came in there. Hopefully, they don’t try to harass you again.”

Seth just shook his head, lips turning up in a sad smile at the two of them. “It’s nothin’ I’m not used to,” He shrugged with an air of faux nonchalance, “I’m a black man in the south” _Still._ “I haven’t been picked up for anything since I was doin’ dumb shit kids do when they angry and don’t know how to do anything else. So they thought they could scare me into handing over all our audio files. But Abby told them they gonna need a warrant for that.” He shrugged again and Neil didn’t buy the air for one second. “Doesn’t matter.” Seth waved a hand and leaned back into the couch. 

But Matt’s brows furrowed and he redirected his look to Seth. “It _does_ matter,” he said. “Don’t say that kinda shit. It _does_ matter and Neil’s right. Shit was messed up. And yeah, we used to it but that doesn’t mean it’s okay or we _should_ be.” He kicked the toe of his sneaker into Seth’s. “But you handled yourself well, brother. You didn’t let them push you around and I appreciate you for that. Be the kind of man you wished you had to look up to when you were that angry kid.”

Seth pressed his lips together and just nodded. Rather than say anything, he held out a fist and Matt bumped it with his own. 

Neil flicked his eyes between the two of them and took a deep breath. He hated that he’d pulled them all into this.

_My fault._

This was a group of good fucking people. 

“Well,” Neil murmured, “I’m sorry anyway. Me being here has caused a lot of bullshit, obviously... and I never wanted that for anyone.” He told himself not to look at Andrew, but he couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was for comfort, he didn’t know. “But,” He closed his eyes and buried his fingers in Sir’s short fur in his lap. “It’s here now, so we’re going to have to deal with it.” Opening his eyes, he was met with everyone’s gaze. He could feel Andrew’s burning in the side of his head. _Right._ “Lola caught up to us. Did this to us,” he gestured to his and Andrew’s wounds. “And now she’s dead.” He looked to Abby, then the rest of the team, “We gave our statements to the FBI, but they’re not done with us, especially not when they figure out who I really am.”

“You didn’t tell them?” Dan asked, raising a brow. 

Beside him, Andrew inhaled a breath as if to respond, but Neil beat him to it and bumped his shoulder with his own as if saying, _‘I’ve got this’_. 

“No. We tried. Before any of this shit happened, we went to their Columbia office and they didn’t want to listen. Now, I’m not saying anything until it benefits us.” ~~_Us. Me and Andrew._ ~~“I have information they’re going to want, but I don’t trust them to actually do the right thing with it. So, we wait,” he said and finally allowed himself to meet Andrew’s eyes. 

 _Something_ happened. It was low and muted and sat at the bottom of his belly where all his other dormant _whatevers_ were slowly coming to life. 

Andrew nodded for him to continue. “We wait until the time is right - until they’re willing to listen. Andrew and I both decided that right now, we have a platform here, and we have an opportunity to tell the truth and have it be heard. For now, we bide our time and use it to our advantage.”

The door opened and someone came rushing down the hallway. Neil’s fight or flight instincts were screaming _flight,_ as he clutched onto Sir and completely forgot about the pain and pressure against his burns and cuts, as he turned his head quickly over his shoulder. 

Kevin Day stood a few paces away from the couch, breathing hard and eyes wide at the two of them. 

Somehow, in all the insanity, Neil had completely forgotten about him - that he was here and worked here and was friends with Andrew...

Their eyes met and Kevin’s brows furrowed for only a moment. His head cocked, but he shook it quickly and looked to Andrew. 

“I didn’t know,” he whispered breathlessly, “I didn’t know what to do... I’d heard - from the group chat, but I didn’t know what to do and -” He blinked several times, then trailed his eyes back to Neil. “Fuck... You’re-” He pointed to Andrew, “He -”

“I know,” Andrew spoke up finally. It was between his teeth, just like everything else, which made him sound angry or disappointed or... 

Neil watched all of that pass over Kevin’s face as his brows turned up and shoulders slumped. 

“Fuck...” Kevin whispered and approached the couch slowly. 

“Hey Kev,” Neil said. His voice came out quieter than he’d wanted. The last time they spoke was the phone call to get Andrew’s number. It wasn’t the best conversation ever, but Kevin at least knew he was alive and now he was acting like he’d seen a ghost. 

_Almost._

Kevin shook his head and bounced his eyes between them. “No. No, no, no. What kind of fucking joke is this...? I thought Wymack was exaggerating but-”

“No,” Andrew said. 

Kevin zoned in on Neil, like he was trying to get his brain to compute what his eyes were seeing, before he tore them away to look back at Andrew. 

“Hold on a fucking second,” Dan inturrupted. “You two,” She pointed between Neil and Kevin, “You two know each other?”

_Once upon a time._

“A long time ago,” Neil supplied for her, but Kevin’s breathing got harder and when Neil looked, his fists were clenched tight by his sides. 

“I _told_ you. I _told_ you Andrew. Stop digging. I _told you this would happen!_ ” He gestured towards Andrew’s face, then looked again at Neil. “And now - they’re going to- They _did_ \- You’re -”

Andrew abruptly stood, moving King into the floor before he walked around the back of the couch. His hand was automatically out, grabbing Kevin by the back of the neck like _he does with me, but_ **_not_ ** , and started to pull him towards his office.. Kevin had to bend down as he walked robotically underneath Andrew’s hand and Andrew looked over his shoulder, directly at Neil, and Neil _knew._

He got up just as Dan raised her voice.

“Hold on! What the _fuck_ is going on here?” She had her hands on her hips, authority ringing in her voice, but Andrew didn’t listen and Kevin was in no state to, but he did pause in his step to look. Rather than focus on Dan, however, his eyes landed on Matt and he whispered,

“Is that Matt Boyd...?”

Matt smiled a half smile and waved from his spot. 

Kevin shook his head quickly, squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands onto his face. Andrew gave him a tug and they disappeared into his office. 

The door remained open. 

Everyone turned to Neil, expecting an explanation but - 

But Neil was tired and he just wanted to go _home._ He wanted to talk to Kevin and he wanted to sleep and he wanted to not be scrutinized, even though he was sure he _wasn’t_ by the team but still, and

_And and and_

He shifted his weight on his feet, Sir circling his feet after she hopped out of his lap when he stood. He looked between them all. From Dan’s expectant eyes, to Matt’s understanding frown, Seth’s pulled back chin and squinted eyes, to Renee’s... Renee, Allison’s raised brows, and Abby’s head turned away, facing Andrew’s office. 

“I met Kevin when I was a kid,” Neil supplied. It would have to suffice because that’s all he could force out, before he walked around the couch and beelined for Andrew’s office. He closed the door behind him and found Kevin sitting in the rolling chair and Andrew leaned against his desk. They were murmuring quietly, or Kevin was, his head shaking before quickly turning towards Neil as he sat himself down in the white chair. 

 _King’s chair,_ he remembered. 

“I can’t believe this,” Kevin whispered, looking between them. “They came after you.” It wasn’t a question. Kevin knew. Sounds like he always did, from what he said before.

“And we survived,” Neil spoke up before Kevin could continue. “They sent two of my father’s men to kill us. Well, me. I think Andrew was just some kind of special side project for her.”

Andrew snorted and rather than fight it, or say something obvious like how the Moriyamas will try again and _blah blah blah_ , Kevin just nodded his head and gripped his hands between his knees. 

“I don’t even know what to say...” he looked to Andrew. “I’m just glad you’re not dead.” He took a deep breath, then looked to Neil. “I’m glad you’re not dead too, Nathaniel.”

“Neil,” Neil said. “I’m Neil now.” 

Kevin just nodded robotically again. 

Neil decided to continue, so Andrew didn’t have to. Dark circles under his eyes made the concussed bruising there only darker. Honestly, Neil just wanted to get him home so he could sleep and -

~~_Home?_ ~~

“We’re trying to take care of this as quickly as we can,” Neil cut off his own thoughts. “I promise, if this shit doesn’t work out and it becomes an issue for TFN, I’ll leave.” He could feel Andrew’s eyes on him. 

Kevin remained quiet though. Neil felt bad for him, in a way. There was a sort of respect he probably couldn’t ever properly explain, but it all had to do with the fact that he got out. Kevin got out and he’d made a name for himself doing something other than playing exy. He really paved his own way and despite the fact that there _was_ in fact impending doom on Kevin’s own end, he was still here, still kicking, still _fighting_. 

And that was respectable. 

But Neil could imagine how hard it was to give up on all of that and move on to something else. He’d made a life for himself. He was probably happy here. 

And Neil? He didn’t want to jeopardize that... Not for anyone. 

~~_Especially not Andrew._ ~~

“I guess... I guess I’m just glad you’re safe, too,” Kevin said, voice a bit clearer. “Like I said when we talked on the phone. I’m glad you’re not dead-”

“You talked on the phone?” Andrew spoke up, focus on Kevin. 

Who suddenly looked nervous. 

“He’s how I got your number,” Neil supplied.

Andrew looked up at him, then back at Kevin and Kevin opened his mouth to say something - defend himself, make excuses, whatever. But, Andrew beat him to it. 

“Thank you.”

Kevin snapped his mouth closed and looked like he’d been slapped. Not badly, but with shock. He looked up at Andrew with furrowed brows. 

Neil drew his attention back. “I’m glad you’re okay, too. I’m glad you got out and found a place here. I know that wasn’t easy.”

Kevin just nodded.

Andrew pushed away from the desk and Neil stood, following suit as he took that as their cue. 

“We’re going home. To Andrew’s, I mean,” he corrected. He could feel Andrew watching him. “I don’t know when we’ll be back in the office, but we can talk more later, if you want-”

“Yes,” Kevin said, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. 

Neil gave him one nod back, then walked with Andrew out of his office, shoulders pressed close and leaching each others warmth for energy to make it just until they got to _Andrew’s apartment._

They left the studio with Sir in her carrier with her things and King tucked into Andrew’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! We hope to post pt 2 tomorrow night!!! It'll be another long one, longer than this part and its... oh god it's good guys. Like. Ugh. Get hype!!!
> 
> Thank you all so so much for the kudos and comments. We're still in absolute awe of where this has gone and god... I don't think I can really express how much it all means to us. So thank you. Thank you for all the love and the support and the excitement. It means everything. Thank you. Thank you. A million times thank you! See yall tomorrow night!


	24. Aftermath Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's you and me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally part 2!  
> Wow. Okay. So if y'all have noticed, this is chapter 24/25. That's right... RR is really wrapping up and we only have one chapter left. Which physically hurts for us to say, but yeah... _However, hold out for next chapter for some announcements!_
> 
> Onto this one! We love this chapter. Like, really fucking love it. It's just... yeah. We've pretty much explained ourselves before with Andrew and Neil's motivations for the things they do, but especially in this chapter, just please remember these characters are fundamentally different. They're both grown men, who have different experiences, and when it comes to Andrew - he's way more sound than he's ever been. So we're doing what we do for a reason and we firmly stand behind these characters and they're growth.... so... WITH THAT BEING SAID!!!  
> CW!  
> Theres some _content_ in this one. We're keeping this vague for spoiler purposes, but please take a look at the rating of the fic and use that as a context clue for what we mean lol. Canon typical things happening here but they are non-explicit and fairly brief, focused more inside their head than anything physical :)  
> Mention of scars, but otherwise I think that's it?!?!
> 
> This one is a goodie y'all. We're sooooo fucking excited to see what yall have to say ^^
> 
> ANYWAY! As always, stay tuned on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) !!!!

Pulling up to his apartment in the Maserati felt odd. The last time they were here, it was only for a little while, but Neil had blushed at Andrew in a towel and Andrew had heart palpitations at Neil sticking his hand under his shirt...

And it was the last fucking thing he should be thinking about, but it hit Andrew square in the fucking face that they’d be living under the same roof - at least for now. 

Renee had returned the rental, he saw. She’d also slipped him his recorder on the way out. It hung heavy with nightmares and possibilities in his pocket. 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, Neil behind him. He let King jump out of his arms before they dumped their various medical supplies and bags on the kitchen counter. 

That’s when it hit both of them. 

_Really._

Andrew turned to look at Neil properly. He was just finishing taking in their surroundings for the second time, when their eyes met and there was so much Andrew wanted to say, but no words to fucking say them - when his phone rang. 

It was Bee. 

He didn’t answer. Neil raised a brow at him, but he just waited for it to go to voicemail, before opening his phone and texting her. A smile was playing at the corners of Neil’s lips, but he turned and started unpacking Sir’s things, and setting them next to King’s. 

_‘Face hurts. Can’t talk. Home now.’_

_‘Do you want to come stay at the house? I can kick someone out for both of you if you want.’_

Andrew almost smiled at his phone, before remembering that hurt, too.

_‘No. Just want to be in my own bed.’_

_‘Do you want food at least? Something soft?’_

Andrew knew he had no real food in the house besides cereal and _ugh._ Right now he was too tired to care. 

_‘Maybe later. I’ll text you.’_

_‘Okay.’_

He set his phone down and sighed, looking at Neil. 

 _Neil_ . Who was unpacking his things in _his_ apartment. With his cat slowly walking around, taking survey of her surroundings, and King watching her the entire time. _Neil_ , who he’d kissed, who he felt something growing _and growing and growing_ between the two of them, who would now be staying here for however long and -

And.

“I don’t know about you,” Neil said, standing and turning to face him. “But, I could use a nap in an actual bed right now.”

 _Bed._ _His_ bed. Not the hospital, not some hotel, not Allison’s king. This was _his_ bed and sure, Andrew could take the couch. He could put distance between them, but what was the point?

Besides, _was that an offer?_

Andrew decided to shut out what was in his head and instead, held out his hand. It was his own offering. Neil could take it, or he couldn’t. 

But he did. And there was no hesitation as he held Andrew’s hand a bit tighter and Andrew walked them to the bedroom with his heart beating out of his chest. The cats followed and he shut the door once they were inside, and together, they climbed into the bed, careful of cuts and ribs and burns. Andrew took the left side, so when facing Neil his injured cheek could face up and Neil took the right so his burn could do the same. They were close enough to touch, if either of them wanted. 

But right now, this was enough. Sharing this space and knowing the other was living and breathing and _here_. 

They slept until the next morning. 

* * *

 

Wednesday and Thursday passed in an honest blur of sleeping and eating and staying in bed. It was like they’d created a bubble around themselves and they weren’t ready to pop it. Neil wasn’t ready to go out and face the real world and the very real repercussions of what had happened. 

So instead, they tended to each others wounds. Andrew helped Neil put on the ointment for his burns and Neil reminded Andrew when they needed to take their antibiotics. The cats had formed some sort of bond over their mutual problematic humans, and they had food brought in and ordered extra so they wouldn’t have to leave. 

They worked like a unit ~~and it was nice.~~ One moved and so did the other, careful eyes to make sure either didn’t exert too much and Neil felt a sort of normalcy begin to settle over them in just those two days. 

His mother’s voice was quiet inside his head. All there was, was _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew,_ and though it didn’t make much sense in the grand scheme, it was fine with him. 

Because Neil liked this. He liked staying in this bubble of _them,_ while Andrew ignored his phone and Neil told Matt not to worry when he texted to say he was going back to New York. 

However, good things couldn’t last forever. Not really. 

* * *

 

On Friday night, the nightmares began. 

Andrew didn’t know if it was a delayed reaction or if they were both too mentally drained for their minds to really _connect_ , but that night, they both woke multiple times, shaking and sweaty. They took turns shushing each other back to sleep and neither needed to ask. Andrew’s were filled with blood and cuts and _red_ and Neil lying very still on the ground. He could only assume Neil’s were similar. 

On Saturday morning, there was no sleep left to be had. He could lie there for hours more, petting King, staring up at the ceiling, and listening to Neil’s even breathing - but Neil was finally peacefully asleep and Andrew didn’t want to disturb him. 

He got out of the bed as quietly as he could and closed the bedroom door softly after the cats followed after him, eager for food. Andrew padded to the kitchen, fed and petted both of them, then started pulling out the few ingredients to make pancakes, when Neil emerged - sleep tousled and rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey,” he said, voice rough and familiar. He slid onto a stool. “Smells good.”

Andrew set a cup of black coffee in front of him and turned back to the stove to finish up the pancakes. 

He’d gotten used to not talking now. The more the stitches healed, the worse the discomfort got. It helped to put the ointment on them, to soften them a bit - but he didn’t mind not talking. He didn’t really have anything to say and Neil seemed to know what he was thinking anyway. 

~~_I don’t know how._ ~~

He slid the last pancake onto the plate and put it in front of Neil. He grabbed a banana from the quick grocery run he’d made yesterday and set it before him too. 

“Thank you,” Neil said quietly. Andrew just nodded as he pulled his own coffee over. He watched Neil take a bite (with very little syrup), sip his hot coffee, and leaned against the counter. 

“I’m sorry.” Neil used the side of his fork to cut off another piece. “For keeping you up last night. I know you didn’t sleep great either.” He didn’t look at Andrew as he spoke. He kept his eyes down and Andrew set his cup aside, because how could he think Andrew would be anything but sympathetic? After all, this was _my fault_ . All of it. The fact that Neil wanted to stay _here_ , with _him_ , was something he didn’t understand, and wasn’t so sure he wanted to try to either. 

He walked around the counter towards Neil and Neil turned on the stool to face him. Andrew could see the cogs turn in Neil’s head as he separated his knees and rather than hesitate, Andrew stepped between them as he slid a hand to the side of Neil’s neck. His thumb stroked gently against his skin and he could feel Neil’s pulse as it spiked when Andrew’s eyes moved down to his mouth and he couldn’t help it. He -

“Yes.”

_Yes_

It was a pull - a pull that Andrew belatedly realized was always there, but lay dormant and confused and unknown for years. It was a pull and Andrew was too weak to resist. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together. This time there was no blood, no sterile white lights, or doom hanging above them. No. Now they were in Andrew’s apartment, content, and lazy, and Neil’s lips were soft, and Andrew had meant for it to just be a kiss, but he didn’t think that would ever be possible with Neil. It deepened before he could stop it and when Neil opened his mouth under his own, Andrew’s hand slid up into Neil’s hair and he felt Neil lean back, just a bit, so Andrew could press into him just a little. 

It was only when he opened his mouth a certain way and he hissed in pain, that the kiss was broken. 

Neil pulled away, his breath still brushing Andrew’s lips and their noses close. Andrew opened his eyes to see a flush in Neil’s face where his burn was not, and his _auburn_ lashes just barely covering that blue. “You okay?”

Andrew just nodded and ran his hand back down Neil’s neck. He paused there, pressing two fingers behind his ear to feel his heart beat in time with his own. They were both racing. 

_I like it._

Neil grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

* * *

 

Neil never understood the want to touch and to be touched in return. He never had the chance to, he supposed. 

Throughout his life, touch was defined by pain or necessity and no in between. There were never levels to it besides how much could he hurt from his father's blades or bullets of his men, and how tight his mother could grip onto him as they ran for their lives or how hard she hit to discipline his mistakes. 

He didn’t know what to call _this_ kind of touch, or where to categorize it. He just knew it wasn’t pain. Maybe it was necessity. 

Or perhaps it was _want._

Neil didn’t know how to want for anything more than to just make it to tomorrow and to see those he cared about make it there too. Now? He just _wanted_ so badly. He _wanted_ to live for more than just running. He _wanted_ whatever _this_ was between him and Andrew to keep going. He _wanted_ to breathe the freedom teasing him on the horizon. And by fuck, he _wanted_ to touch Andrew and to be touched in return. 

That in itself confused him and _he_ was the one to even fucking ask for it in the first place. 

_‘Yes or no?’_

_‘Can I kiss you?’_

_‘Yes’_

The first time ignited a flame from an ember that had been low and burning for weeks. The second, that flame grew a bit bigger and sustained it’s light, it’s heat, over the past few days. And the third became a fire, bright and dangerous and everything Neil never knew he ever fucking wanted or would ever fucking have. 

His mother must be rolling in her fucking grave. Cursing him to high heaven or however that saying went. He was cursing at himself, but found that to be totally and utterly useless against this want.

Because now, he’d do anything for _Andrew._

_-_

By Sunday, they were both going stir crazy. Neil was the first one up this time and started a pot of coffee, before looking around at Andrew’s apartment. 

He’d become familiar with it, obviously. Boxes were scattered about, most unpacked or half unpacked, and many holding what one would consider necessities. Neil deduced that Andrew must not have spent much time here after moving back to Palmetto. All King’s things (and now Sir’s) were in proper (or semi-proper) places, but everything else...? Andrew would have to unpack at some point...

While the coffee dripped, Neil walked over to a stack of boxes labeled **books**. They sat on top of one another at the far end of the couch and acted as a very high end table. He pulled the top one down and opened it up. Neil recognized none of the titles, but he could tell that they were well-loved. All bindings were cracked and a few pages dog-eared as he rifled through the stacks, one after the other. A part of his brain remembered Ashleigh and her hate for bent pages. He smirked. 

Pressed against one wall of the living room and beside the TV mounted to the wall, was a black bookcase, empty but for a few of King’s toys that had been carelessly tossed there. Neil looked down at the box, then to the case, and dragged it over to begin stacking books on the shelves. It brought back Arizona, the Book Nook, and mornings spent unpacking boxes upon boxes of 3-month-late ‘New Releases’. Something about that made him smile. 

 _Seems like forever ago_ , he thought as he arranged the books by author, pausing here and there to read the backs or decide whether or not Andrew liked the book depending on its state of use. 

He was halfway through the first box when Andrew came out of the room, phone to his ear. He was freshly showered, Neil noted - hair slicked back and smelling like his body wash. Neil smiled at him when he raised a brow. 

He’d finally put his piercings back in. 

“Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker with Neil so he can have a say in this,” Andrew was saying, still speaking through his teeth, but at least it was more than two words now. He took the phone from his ear and walked over to Neil, “It’s Dan. She wants to post the audio notes tonight. Put something up for the listeners.”

 _‘I just want to make sure we keep engagement up,’_ Dan said. _‘The audience is wondering what happened to you, Andrew.’_

“My issue,” Andrew started, talking more to Neil than Dan, “Is that I want to keep some of this in our pocket. I want them to know that we have information that could hurt both them and the Moriyamas.”

They’d discussed this before, but it wasn’t in detail. Now, it was here and Andrew was right. “Wasn’t the whole point of me being here to hide in plain sight?” He motioned towards the phone. “Put this up and let people know there are bigger things at play here than just a missing mother and son?”

Andrew chewed on his lip ring in thought and Neil only just realized how much he’d missed seeing it.

_‘I’ll do whatever you two want me to do. Just tell me now so I can have Seth start working on it when I get a hold of him.’_

“Let’s post part of them,” Neil cut in. “Up to the 4th only and hold everything else. That’s when we go to the FBI and talk about us meeting and...” _And Lola tried to kill us,_ “all the rest. We’ll let the FBI try and come for us again, before we post what’s left.”

Andrew was thinking about it. His teeth still wore at the ring for a minute that could’ve stretched on for five, Neil didn’t know. But eventually, he nodded, “Did you get that Dan? Tell Seth, only up to the 4th.”

_‘Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s ready to go up, so you can make the post.’_

“Good,” Andrew said and hung up without anything else. He looked to Neil as he tossed his phone onto the couch, then down at the box, up at the shelf, then back to Neil. 

Neil shrugged. “You should probably unpack at some point. I know I don’t have things to take up space, but I imagine me being here makes everything seem smaller.” He looked away from Andrew and over to his progress, just for somewhere _else_ to look. “Maybe unpacking will help?” 

Andrew studied him for a long moment. Neil could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of his head and while part of him wanted to shy away from it, the other part wanted to meet it head-on. He chose the latter side and lifted his eyes, anticipating meeting Andrew’s - however, Andrew bent down to pick a book from the box. Standing straight, he ran his finger along it’s tattered binding and said, “Take up as much space as you want,” with a flick of his eyes up at Neil. 

~~_Take up as much space as you want_ ~~

~~_I want_ ~~

Andrew flipped the pages of the book with his thumb and held it up to his face, breathing deep as he fanned the pages. Neil furrowed his brows. 

“Did you just sniff that book?”

Andrew nodded and held it out to Neil, fanning the pages once more. Neil was confused and just a little worried about that concussion Andrew had, but leaned forward to sniff. It smelled like...paper. 

“Mmmm,” he said, smiling and nodding. “Smells great.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, slapped the book against Neil’s shoulder, and shoved it onto the shelf next to the others, before bending down to get some more. 

They worked like that for over an hour, only pausing to feed the cats and pour coffee. Eventually, the shelf was filled and Neil stood back to survey their work. 

He spent 5 months surrounded by books and a reading junkie. For five months, he paid little to no mind to titles or stories because what was the point? Now, as he looked at all the _love_ Andrew clearly had for them, he sort of regretted that he knew none of the titles besides Harry Potter - Andrew’s copies worn and cracked and without their sleeves. 

“Which one is your favorite?” Neil asked, suddenly. He sat on the arm of the couch, trying to see if he could guess which one Andrew would pick by sight and wear alone. 

Andrew cocked his head at the shelf and stepped forward. He ran a reverent finger along the books gently, and Neil could suddenly see him with one of these - sitting out on the balcony and getting lost in the pages. Neil liked to imagine Andrew like that. 

_Peaceful._

He pulled one down and handed it to Neil. It was a book called Watership Down. There was a picture of a rabbit on the front, and it was worn to the point that Neil was afraid to handle it very much. There were post-it flags sticking out from the pages, and Neil opened to one at random and read what Andrew had highlighted. 

_‘You know how you let yourself think that everything will be alright if you can only get to a certain place or do a certain thing. But when you get there you find it’s not that simple.’_

_Story of my life._ He flipped again. 

 _‘I’d rather succeed in doing what we can, than fail to do what we can’t._ ’

 _How very Andrew._ He turned to another. 

 _‘You want to run - I’ll run with you._ ’

He looked up at Andrew then, only to find that he was being watched. Hadn’t he basically said this to Neil? Refused to leave him, to go alone? 

_‘It’s you and me.’_

Neil closed the book carefully, then took a step forward to close the distance between them. He didn’t know _why_ he did it, but he knew as he slowly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Andrew’s neck, knew as Andrew shuddered beneath his lips and Neil felt himself smile - _I want more of this._

A decision he kept making over and over again, perhaps at last made _final_.

Because he _wanted_ to be closer. 

Nonetheless, he pulled away and looked Andrew in the face as he held up the book, “Mind if I borrow this?”

Andrew shook his head and Neil swore his eyes looked a little lost in the moment. Neil relished in it. Relished in the fact that _I did that._ He blinked a few times and looked at the clock on the cable box. “We should go shopping before all the good Baptists are out of church.”

“Good Baptists?” Neil asked, setting the book down on the shelf, out of its proper place. He fully intended on picking it back up later. 

Andrew just hummed and Neil smiled just _because_. 

* * *

 

Grocery shopping with Neil was a journey through the mind of someone with an apocalyptic pallet. He’d been running for his life for the past 15 years, so Andrew couldn’t really fault him. Neil had grown up eating things that didn’t require cooking, because his mother was afraid the smell would attract murderous henchmen. Evidently, that carried over into adulthood. Most of what he was picking was hurricane preparation food, Andrew thought. Fruit and bread and peanut butter and chips. 

Initially, Andrew thought maybe Neil was holding back because he didn’t have much money. Andrew planned on paying for it all anyway, but he understood if Neil may have felt awkward about it. 

“You can get real food, you know,” he said, eyeing the giant bag of apples Neil had thrown into the cart and ignoring the stare an old woman gave at his stitched up face. 

He’d left the bandage off. There was no use covering it and he looked ridiculous with two jumbo fucking bandaids attached to his face. There was no point anyway. The scar wasn’t fucking going anywhere and he was just going to have to get used to it. Not to mention, he knew Neil spent a considerable amount of time making sure none of _his_ scars showed. Now, he had a burn marring the left side of his cheek and Andrew wasn’t going to shy away from his own as if it were something to be ashamed of. Lead by example, badge of honor, and all that. Right?

_Right._

“This _is_ real food. Just because it’s not chocolate, doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

Andrew could think of several arguments to the contrary, but he decided against it. Instead, he put a hand on the cart Neil was pushing and pulled them to a stop. 

“What do you like? You like burgers, right? We can make burgers,” Andrew nodded. “Pasta? Steak? Chicken? Let’s get shit we can actually cook. Otherwise we’ll be eating out every night and my muscles will suffer when I work out. I can’t have that Neil, I have an image to uphold.”

Neil raised a brow at him and grinned in one corner of his mouth. Andrew hated that smile. He hated how Neil had no fucking clue what he was doing. Or maybe he did. Because he reached out a hand and squeezed one of Andrew’s biceps. 

“Hmm, yeah. I see what you mean. These definitely aren’t as big as they were when you first got to New York.”

Andrew’s initial response was to be offended. He went with his second, instead taking a step closer to Neil. His brows gathered and he tilted his head, “Looking that closely? You could’ve just said you’d like to feel them, you know. I would’ve let you.”

And there it was. Neil’s teeth grazed his bottom lip and Andrew didn’t know if he’d meant it or not, but Neil squeezed a little harder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

_Is he... flirt-_

_Not the place, Minyard._

Impulsively, Andrew grabbed the cart from Neil and kept walking. Neil, a laugh at his lips, caught up to him and bumped his shoulder against Andrew’s. “We can get all those things, if you’re offering to cook. I’m not really proficient at cooking anything other than ramen noodles and mac and cheese.”

Andrew just nodded. He’ll cook whatever Neil fucking wanted, so long as it had protein and limited _greens_. He had his work cut out for him, refining that god awful pallet. 

-

They finished their shopping, drove _home_ , and put the groceries away together. While talking about what to make for dinner and moving about the kitchen as a unit, Andrew was slapped in the face with such a fucking force of comfortable _domesticity_ , that he grabbed Neil’s arm before he knew what he was doing. Neil was putting fruit in a bowl (that was meant for cake batter, Andrew was annoyed to see) when _it_ just overwhelmed him. 

~~_Let go. It never happened. Move on. Retreat, retreat, retreat -_ ~~

Andrew pulled Neil to him instead, and he came willingly, smiling at Andrew like he knew exactly what he’d been thinking. _Maybe he did._ Maybe he always knew and that’s why _this_ felt like this - like his chest was tight every time he caught a flash of blue looking in his direction and his mouth felt full of cotton with words he was unable to say.

Neil rested his weight against Andrew with a careful measure and ease so they were flush against one another, and it felt so intimate that Andrew almost did push him away. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe it was doubt, or fear of the fact that he knew they were building up to something. Fear of knowing this would eventually go further than kisses that left them breathless and comfortably uncomfortable, and tight arms in the middle of the night; fear of fucking this **_not this_ ** up; fear of moving too fast, of pushing too hard - 

_No._

This would all be Neil’s decision. 

 _Neil_ , who leaned his head down and brushed his nose lightly against Andrew’s, and what if this was the moment he made that decision?

Neil opened his mouth to speak and Andrew had to fight against closing his eyes against whatever it was he was going to say - what he _wanted_ him to say, but

“You should really start eating some of these apples,” he whispered. “They have a lot of fiber.”

Andrew laughed. Really laughed and it hurt his fucking face, but he laughed more and pushed Neil away. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He shook his head and pointed. “That bowl is for mixing cake batter, by the way, and you’re _ruining_ it with your fucking fruit.”

Neil was still smiling. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

Andrew was about to retort that he was going to make apple pie with all those apples, when his phone rang. It was Bee. Andrew sighed and answered - not because he didn’t _want_ to talk, but because he’d been avoiding them all, and even though he knew Bee didn’t mind, he still felt a little guilty that Aaron and Nicky had flown in and he’d barely seen them at all. 

“Hello, Bee.” 

_‘Hello, Honey. How are you feeling?’_

“A bit better. Neil and I went grocery shopping, face still hurts, but I get stitches out tomorrow.”

 _‘Good! That’s wonderful, I’m so glad you both got out of the house.’_ Sweet Bee, loving Bee, caring Bee, _‘I was just calling to see if you and Neil wanted to come over for dinner tonight? Everyone is leaving soon, so I thought it’d be fun to have all my boys under the same roof again.’_

Andrew glanced over at Neil, who was currently putting bananas in the bowl and trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t listening. “I’ll check with Neil and see how he feels about it, but I’ll come. 7?”

 _‘As usual.’_ He could hear the smile in her voice and it made him smile a little, too. 

He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and leaned against the counter. “Bee wants to have us over for dinner tonight. Aaron and Nicky are still in town. You don’t have to come, but I should go.”

Neil just shrugged and lifted his head, “I don’t mind coming. Your family seems okay. It’s just-” he cut himself off and furrowed his brows at Andrew. 

“What?” Did they make him nervous? Was that too much? Andrew didn’t wa-

“No, it’s just I thought you and your brother were identical?”

Andrew raised a brow at him. From the time he and Aaron were sharing the same space, people had been getting them mixed up. Hell, even _before_ that. It didn’t take Nicky long, but even he had trouble in the beginning. They’d been able to switch places in school with no issues and everything - “We are,” He said slowly. “We look exactly fucking alike?”

Neil pulled back his chin, confusion on his face, “No, you don’t? I mean, yeah I guess you look _alike_ but... I don’t know. I was just expecting a copy of you?”

_Oh my god._

Andrew shook his head and he felt his smile return, tugging at his lips and it hurt but he couldn’t stop it because _is he serious?_ “If you’re trying to say I’m better looking than my identical twin brother, it’s fine. I won’t fault you for that. I’ve known since the moment we met. I just haven’t been able to convince him.”

Neil dropped the last banana in the bowl and arranged it on the counter so it looked like it belonged there. It was a curious thing because Neil had absolutely no sense of design and had spent the majority of his life on the run. Maybe that was the point though. He was in a space where he could share and feel like it was his own and -

_‘Take up as much space as you want.’_

Andrew had said that. He meant it and

Neil turned to Andrew, “You are infinitely better looking than your identical twin brother. I”ll tell him, if you want.” 

_Oh_

The smile stayed. “Could you? Thanks. Dinner is at 7. You can think about what you’re going to say until then.”

* * *

 

When they pulled up to Bee’s house at 7, Neil was nervous. He was usually nervous because that was just how he lived his fucking life, but this was different. This was Andrew’s family. 

He knew Andrew didn’t have an easy childhood and that’s part of what connected them so quickly, so fiercely. But, he also knew that between Nicky and Bee, that childhood was made infinitely better. He had a caring family unit here - he had ties. Neil didn’t have any of that. He’d never been in a situation to see a functioning and caring family, and maybe, at one point or another, Neil resented Andrew for that. 

_‘Oh, you’re a journalist . I am so fucking sorry sir, forgive my ignorance. How nice it must have been for you! To be able to go to school and have a career and live a fucking life. Do you have any idea what I’ve been doing since we last met?’_

He was going to stick out like a sore fucking thumb. 

Andrew parked the car and looked over at him, “Ready?”

Neil didn’t answer immediately. Andrew put a hand on his leg and squeezed. “Why are you nervous? It’s just Bee.” 

_Of course he could tell._

“And your cousin, and his husband, and your brother, and his wife, and their daughter who you adore,” Neil shook his head and played with the hem of his long sleeve. “I don’t know how to act around a family of people,” he admitted. 

“Hey,” Andrew said, voice low and quiet. Neil turned to look at him. “You don’t know how to act around _any_ people.” 

And that was it. Neil snorted a laugh and all tension was broken. He was still nervous, that likely wasn’t going to change, but as long as Andrew was there - he’d be okay. 

They made their way up a simple porch and to the front door, where Andrew walked inside without knocking. ~~Neil ignored the pang of jealousy.~~ The smell of food hit Neil full in the face and his stomach rumbled. He didn’t know what was cooking, but it smelled homey, somehow. ~~_Not like I would know._~~

Andrew led them down a short hallway, to the kitchen where Bee was standing with Bella, who was balanced atop a tall stool. She was helping the little girl mix something, but they both looked up at the same time and the look on Bella’s face almost made Neil laugh. Her eyes (which were so much like Andrew’s) went wide and there was chocolate all over her face. She jumped off the stool, almost face planting in the process as she yelled, “Unkie!”

Andrew grabbed her before she could fall and she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. 

“Hey Bells,” he said. “You helpin’ Mama Bee make something delicious?”

Bella pulled back and nodded, kicking her feet out on either sides of Andrew as he held her. “Yep, it’s a ‘prise’ for you though. So I not ‘posed ta tell you it’s chocowate pudding.”

Andrew laughed and Neil’s chest tightened. “Ah, okay. Better not tell me then.”

She looked at his face then. _Really_ looked at it and Neil was waiting for her to ask. He could already see Bee focusing on the two of them from where she worked, but Bella was up close. At least Andrew’s cuts looked a lot better than they had before, but he still had the stitches in and Neil didn’t how how a 3-year-old would react. He’d never been around small children. 

Bella lifted a hand like she was going to touch them, but Andrew caught it before she could. “I know they look like they feel weird, huh? I can’t touch them though, because I have to keep them really clean so they don’t get infected.”

“You gots booboos,” Bella said. Andrew nodded. “They hurt you?” Neil didn’t know if she meant the ‘booboo’s or what Lola did to him, but Andrew just smiled a little smile at her. 

“They hurt, but not too bad. They’re getting much better. Soon, I’ll be good as new with some really cool scars.”

That made Bella giggle. Her nose scrunched up and eyes squinted, “You gonna wook wike a pirate!”

Andrew shook the two of them together and Neil swore, he didn’t know this side of Andrew existed because he said, “Argh!” and Neil decided, he very much liked Uncle Andrew. He just seemed so genuinely happy and in love with Bella and Neil could watch them all day. 

But alas, he couldn’t do that. Because attention was shifting as Andrew set Bella down and moved to greet Bee. That’s when Bella looked up at Neil. 

“Hi, Cucklened.”

_Maybe this will be easier than I thought._

Neil laughed, but didn’t correct her. He decided he would be Cucklened forever, if he had to. 

“Hello, Bella. It’s nice to see you again.” Is that how you talk to children? Like they’re adults? Or...?

“You gots booboos, too.” Neil just nodded. Bella sighed a very put upon sigh. “I fix you.” She ran away before Neil could ask and he looked up at Andrew, who was pulling out of a hug with Bee. He just shrugged, obviously unconcerned. 

Bee approached him then. Neil was half expecting a hug himself, because Bee seemed like a mother even though she had no biological children of her own - and that’s what Neil always imagined mothers did. Not his mother, of course. But... other... Mothers?

“Neil,” she said with a smile. “I’m so glad you came. It’s nice to meet you in better conditions.” She motioned towards Andrew. “Thank you for being a friend to him right now. I’m sure you’ve both been a comfort to each other.”

Neil willed himself not to go completely red remembering hot kisses and nights spent holding onto each other through nightmares. She wasn’t _wrong_ per se. Andrew was the most comfort Neil ever had. 

He involuntarily cleared his throat. 

It was also the most uncomfortable he’d ever been - in a non life threatening sense. But, that wasn’t what she meant. 

So, Neil just nodded. “I’m glad, too. It’s nice to meet you.”

She reached out a hand and squeezed his arm, but that was it as she turned away to check something on the stove. 

“Pot roast?” Andrew asked with an air of hopefulness. 

“Of course. I thought you’d maybe be able to chew it by now. But, I cooked it all day, so it should be nice and tender.” Andrew reached around her to stick a finger in whatever she was stirring, but she swatted him away, laughing. “Stop that! Go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon.”

Andrew backed away with hands up and made his way to the sink. Neil followed him and right as he was enjoying being hip and hip to Andrew and playfully trying to wash his hands over his, Nicky walked in carrying Bella. 

“Oh!” he said, catching sight of Neil. “It’s... Neil, right?” Neil knew Nicky recognized him in the hospital. He could see it in his face. But, he seemed like a nice enough guy, if not a little enthusiastic, so Neil just hoped there would be no awkward questions tonight. 

“Yeah,” he said, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Nicky, right?”

Nicky nodded with a bright smile on his face that stood out against his tanned skin. If Neil didn’t know any better, he’d ask Andrew how they were actually related. But, they were cousins and he had a semi-functioning brain, so he just assumed it was a mixed family. 

“Are you the one that needs fixing?” He asked and bounced Bella on his hip. “You see, my baby cousin and light of my life, Bella here, has told me that someone needs a doctor and she’s ready to provide.”

Neil looked to her, finding a toy doctor kit clutched in her hand and stethoscope around her neck. “Ah, finally,” he said, smiling at her and it felt _natural_. “I’ve been waiting for a doctor to help.”

She wiggled out of Nicky’s arms and held out her hand. “Can I?” She asked and Neil was surprised she even asked for permission. Fear not, she grabbed it anyway at the very beginning of his nod, and dragged him into the living room. Andrew was right behind them and she made Neil sit on a low stool so they were almost the same height. Andrew sat in a small child’s sized chair nearby to watch. 

Just as Bella was getting her tools ready, Katelyn, Neil thought, ~~_Katelyn, right?_~~ Walked into the room. “Oh, Bella,” Katelyn asked, pausing with a hand on her stomach. “Did you ask first, or did you demand?”

Bella looked up at her mom with innocent _golden_ eyes. “Cucklened gots booboos. Unkie, too. I fix them.”

Katelyn looked terribly confused, before Neil held up a hand. “Cucklened. Nice to meet you.” 

She laughed and asked, “Neil, I assume?” He nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry about Bella, she’s a little enthusiastic. I can tell her-”

“Katelyn,” Andrew said from his seat. “You’re interrupting the doctor during her examination of the booboos. Please step aside, so she has room to work.” 

Katelyn held up her hands in surrender and went to sit on the couch. Bella continued her exam. She held up her little stethoscope to Neil’s chest and listened intently. Neil was half focused on her and half focused on Andrew and Katelyn’s conversation. 

“... I’m just going to take some time off from my residency,” She was saying. “It’ll mean getting a practice started later, but I’m in no rush right now. We both wanted Bella to have a sibling and we both wanted them to be close-ish in age. But, we’re done now,” she said, laughing. 

Nicky had come to sit next to her. “No! Please have all the babies! Look how sweet she is... She’s like an angel,” he cooed. 

Bella was currently preparing a plastic shot to shoot into Neil’s arm. 

“Hm, yeah. Angel when she’s here with all of you spoiling her.”

Bella gave Neil the shot in his shoulder and she looked up at him expectantly. He had no idea what he was supposed to do -

“Did that hurt, Neil?” Andrew asked loudly. “Because it looked like it hurt.”

“Oh, uh. Ouch!” Bella nodded in satisfaction and put a fake bandaid on the sleeve of his shirt. 

Aaron walked in then and looked to Bella, then to Neil, and last to Andrew. Neil watched as they said not a word to each other, and just nodded. Aaron sat in another child sized chair on the other side of Andrew, and Neil took a moment to study them. 

They did look alike, he supposed. But, there were obvious differences because their looks were just polar fucking opposites. Aaron appeared... neat, Neil supposed. Tight haircut and casual, but comfortable clothes. Where as Andrew’s hair was pushed back like it always was - like he’d been running his hand through it constantly. 

Which, Neil now knew, he did. 

But it went beyond that somehow - beyond the clean face and the pierced one, the glasses and the different color choices. It was something in the way they held themselves. Something in the jaw, in the tilt of the head and the set of the shoulders... Maybe Neil was crazy. 

“So... this is...” Aaron started, looking to Andrew. 

“Neil,” he said. “This is Neil. He was with me when everything happened.”

Aaron looked between them. 

“And you two are...”

“Friends,” Neil supplied, so Andrew wouldn’t have to. “We’re... good friends.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes, still looking between them. “Uh huh...” Then promptly changed the subject. “Bella, baby, if you’re done go wash your hands for dinner, okay? I think Mama Bee is almost ready.”

Bella started packing up her tools, but paused halfway to look at Neil. “Better?” She asked him way more seriously than any 3 year old should be able to. 

Neil nodded. “So much better. Thank you, Bella.”

“Welcome!” She perked right up and skipped on her toes (or a variation of “skipping”) and patted Andrew’s shoulder. “Unkie, I fix you after dinnor.”

Andrew nodded. “I can wait Bells. I’ll hold out until then.” She disappeared out of the living room with one last firm nod to her ‘patients’.

“Dinner!” Bee called, and they all stood as one to make their way into the dining room. That nervousness he hadn’t realized disappeared, was back as he took in the dining room table and the food spread across it. There were so many chairs and he didn’t know which to take. Almost like Andrew noticed, he grabbed gentle hold of the hem of Neil’s sleeve and pulled him to the opposite side of the table to sit beside him. Neil would’ve thanked him, but instead he sent him a small, secretive smile that Andrew quickly looked away from. That only made Neil smile more. 

Nicky had apparently disappeared to wake his husband, and upon sitting down, nearly knocked over a chair in his haste to get the seat on Neil’s other side. He caught Andrew rolling his eyes. Neil was then introduced to Erik, Nicky’s husband, who was thrilled to learn that Neil knew German. 

Once they plated up, Neil took a bite and the food was so fucking good, he had to work not to moan around a bite. The last home cooked meal he’d had was the lasagna the old lady in Matt’s building would bring them sometimes, but even then it was reheated. He and Matt lived on anything that took less than ten minutes to make and leftover take out, and he and Andrew hadn’t gotten the chance to attempt cooking anything yet. So this was - 

Andrew watched him closely, he could feel his eyes on the side of his head without even looking. 

“This is amazing, Bee... Or, I’m sorry,” He said, suddenly realizing maybe he’d been rude. Normally that wouldn’t bother him but this felt different? “I don’t know your last name.”

Bee shook her head, “I’m glad you like it, and Bee is just fine. I am Dr. Dobson though, if Bee makes you uncomfortable.”

Neil nodded and Andrew rubbed his leg shortly underneath the table. 

Unfortunately, Nicky didn’t miss it and as dense, as inexperienced Neil was, he anticipated the question coming. 

It started with a cough and a clear of his throat. “So, Neil,” Nicky set down his glass. “You’ve been staying with Andrew? How’s that been going?”

“Fine,” Andrew answered before he could. “Nicky, why don’t you tell Bee about that homophobic asshole at work you were going on about earlier?”

Easy as that, Nicky looked to Bee with wide eyes. “Oh my GOD, Bee...”

And that’s how they carried on. The rest of the meal was nice, Neil decided. Everyone chatted and laughed and Bella kept calling him Cucklened and no one bothered correcting her because it was adorable. 

As he sat there, watching and speaking with everyone, he realized that there was a feeling inside of him he didn’t understand, but acknowledged and welcomed with open arms.

 _Belonging_ , perhaps... _Acceptance_ , maybe. _Invited_? He didn’t know. But he liked it and he didn’t want it to go away. 

By the time they were getting ready to leave, Neil was wondering what he was nervous about in the first place. Sure, he was generally awkward and at times didn’t know how to properly interact with people, but all fear was completely gone. 

Everyone was saying goodbye and Nicky approached him while Andrew spoke quietly to Aaron by the door with Bella _bopping_ on his hip. 

“Okay,” he said, rushed and glancing towards Andrew. “I know I’m probably not even supposed to talk to you,” Neil raised a brow, “But I just wanted to say, I’m glad Andrew found you... And that you’re here and you’re okay.” He was breathless by the end and Neil just nodded. 

“Thanks... Me too.” _What else am I supposed to say?_

“Also, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Andrew,” _there it is_ “but the only person he’s ever brought here is Renee, so tell me your secrets lat- BYE ANDREW!”

Neil turned around to see Andrew walking towards them, suspicion in his eyes.

They finished saying their goodbyes and Nicky promised to call, even though Neil didn’t give him his number, and they made their way to the car in comfortable silence. 

* * *

 

They were quiet in the car and Andrew knew in part, it was because they were both processing the night. 

He was glad they came. Seeing his family was... healing? _That’s something Bee would say._ But it was true. Something about seeing all of them okay and together, stitched together a tear inside of him he hadn’t known was torn after realizing what the countdown meant. He felt better now, somehow. Not whole, but better, and it only improved after witnessing Neil with Bella and how obviously clueless he was. 

“What did Nicky say to you?” Andrew asked, changing his train of thought as he prepared himself to turn the car around if need be. 

Neil just shrugged, “Nothing really. Just that he was glad you found me and that we’re okay.”

They pulled up to the apartment and Andrew led them upstairs as he thought about that. Nicky meant the best, of course. He always did. He was nosy though and he liked to dig into places he didn’t belong - no matter how well-meaning he was. This was one of those things and eventually, as they got to ~~_their_~~ his floor, he mumbled, “He shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Neil said. “He wasn’t being a jerk.”

_Still._

“Still.”

He unlocked the door and led them inside, flipping on lights and greeting Sir and King when they made their way over. 

Andrew was bent down, scratching King under the chin and Sir behind the ear, when Neil spoke again. “He also said,” making his way over to the couch and sitting down, “that he didn’t know what was going on between us.”

_There it is._

Andrew stood straight, threw his keys on the table, and moved to sit beside Neil on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling only slightly, before he shifted to face him and dropped his hands into his lap. _Anxious energy._

“Yeah?” Andrew asked with an air of nonchalance. “He’s nosy like that.”

“Yeah,” Neil said, biting his lip and Andrew knew he wanted to say more. Rather than push him, or say anything that he might’ve wanted to say, he decided to wait him out - let him lead the conversation. “So, what is it, do you think? Between us?” Neil was pulling at his sleeve again, “Is it just... nothing?”

_No._

_You could never be nothing._

That’s what Andrew wanted to say, but didn’t. 

“This isn’t nothing,” he said instead. 

“Then what is it?” Neil asked, looking up from his sleeve to study Andrew’s face with his head cocked to the side. It was like he was trying to determine the answer before Andrew gave it. He probably knew it anyway - he always seemed to know what Andrew was thinking and

“It’s you and me,” Andrew said, simply. Because it was and that seemed like it was good enough for him. He had never put labels on anything. Neil didn’t _feel_ like a _boyfriend_. He felt more like a... partner, he supposed?

_I don’t know what I’m fucking doing here._

Neil let out a harsh breath and ran a hand through his own hair. “I don’t know how to do this,” Neil spoke Andrew’s sentiment. 

“I don’t know either,” Andrew admitted. Because he didn’t. He had no idea _what_ he was doing, or _where_ this was going. He wasn’t a relationship person - he was a hookup person and while hooking up with Neil sounded like a good time, it wasn’t the first thing on his mind. 

Neil raised a disbelieving brow at him. “You’ve got to have more experience than me, at least,” he smirked and it was playful as he shifted too, so that they were facing each other. 

Andrew decided to be honest. “With sex, yeah,” he replied bluntly. “I won’t pretend like I’m a monk or something. But, that’s all it’s ever been for me. Just sex,” he shook his head. “I don’t do relationships... I don’t do living with someone and sharing space. I’ve never even slept in the bed with another guy, I just - don’t... do that.” He played with his lip ring with his teeth and wanted to tear his eyes away to retreat somewhere, look down or at the blank tv or _something_ . But he kept his eyes trained on Neil’s face and Neil was just _listening._ So, Andrew continued, “I’ve always had really strict boundaries and I’ve always been just fine sticking to them.”

That’s when Neil grinned. It was slow and warm and _mischievous...?_ “So, you’re doing this all backwards, with me. Is that what you’re saying...?” he tilted his head, “Doing all of this,” with a gesture around the apartment, “first, and then...”

_And then?_

“And then?” His heart picked up over time because -

Neil’s lips separated and his eyes dropped to the ample space between the two of them, before back up at Andrew’s face. Andrew watched him swallow, watched whatever calculations he had going on in his mind start to add up, or maybe they didn’t... But they had to, because Neil leaned forward until they were in each other’s space and Andrew could feel Neil’s breath on his lips, 

_And then_

They kissed, and for what Andrew was pretty sure, was the first time in all the kisses they’d had in this apartment, Neil was the one in control. He was a quick learner, too, and this kiss was much more controlled than the last few. It was still soft, and Andrew knew it was in consideration of the stitches still in his face, _but_

He lifted a hand and used it to bring Neil closer - used it to tilt his head and take control of the kiss himself, deepening it. Neil let him and before he could properly get his mind back down from floating off to that space, that plane where only the two of them existed, Neil was leaning back toward the arm of the couch and bringing Andrew down with him. He broke off the kiss with a brief pull of Andrew’s lip ring that drew a quick, quiet breath between them, before he let go to place his lips on Andrew’s neck. Andrew had to stifle a moan. He covered it with a breathy, “Satisfied...?” because he noticed Neil’s barely concealed fascination with the piercing. Nonetheless, it came out playful, but less cocky than he wanted it to. His mind was full of fuzz and a shiver raced down his spine. 

Neil nodded into his neck, “Incredibly,” just as playful and light and it wasn’t lost even as Neil’s fingers tangled in his hair and he whispered, “Is this okay?” Against his skin. 

Andrew tilted his head to the side to give more access in response, because it felt _good_ . _Neil_ felt good and they lost themselves to it. They lost themselves to the softness that still remained controlled. It wasn’t desperate or seeking - it was finding each other, finding a rhythm that worked. A rhythm that was driving them now, with Andrew comfortably settled in between Neil’s legs and trying his damndest not to lose control of his senses completely. 

Neil was panting and Andrew could feel it between them, the _more, more, more_. He could feel it in the way Neil shook beneath his hands, but he didn’t want to move them - wouldn’t even think of going further until -

“Andrew,” Neil breathed and he didn’t miss the _something_ underneath. 

“What?” he asked, brushing his lips along the line of Neil’s jaw and finally kissing that _stupid fucking_ freckle on his ear. 

“I-I,” His chest was rising up and down beneath his own and Andrew went to give him space, but Neil pulled him down more by the back of his head. Andrew kissed that spot again and Neil stretched his neck, “I want...” he trailed off. 

“Use your words,” Andrew leaned back just enough to see Neil’s face, his swollen lips and -

“Touch me.” Neil spread his fingers in his hair and his meaning wasn’t lost, not as he removed one of his hands from Andrew’s hair and gently wrapped his fingers around Andrew’s right wrist. Not as he took his hand from where Andrew gripped his waist, and moved it _down, down, down_ with blue half cast by auburn, and

_Touch me_

So, Andrew did. He followed his instruction and touched Neil in the way he wanted, and the sound of him, the warm feel of him, and the responsiveness was probably one of the most significant events in the history of Andrew Minyard. 

Because as much as he wanted to _receive_ , he wanted to _give_ so badly. This touch, with this person, was something so profound, he could literally feel empty spots and tears begin to fill and stitch themselves together on the inside. 

When Neil fell over the edge, when he threw his head back and Andrew took that opportunity to put his mouth to Neil’s neck again, he felt like he’d accomplished something big. 

They sat there for a moment, both panting and breathing in their manufactured quiet. 

Neil put a hand to Andrew’s chest. “Do you want...” he asked, his own lips brushing Andrew’s ear. 

And yes, he did _want_ , but he didn’t know if he could _have_ . So, Andrew leaned back and shook his head. “No,” and upon seeing Neil’s confusion, he closed his eyes and inhaled, “I mean, _yes_ . But no, not right now. I just...” _It was almost too much_ and Andrew wanted to explain, but he didn’t have to. 

Because Neil just nodded and slowly pushed himself so his back was propped against the arm of the couch. His eyes read _understanding_ , and though he may not really get it, he accepted it as he took off his shirt to clean the mess on his abdomen after Andrew pushed it up at the last minute. However, as he did, he froze for a moment and Andrew realized this was the first time he was seeing Neil’s entire torso bare. 

It was more scarred and torn and marked than Andrew had even dared to imagine. 

Neil tore his eyes away and continued to clean himself off, not saying anything, but Andrew didn’t look away. 

Once Neil was done, Andrew raised a hand to his stomach and waited for Neil’s nod of approval, before setting it there, over the long, thin scars he’d felt only briefly and over layers of cotton. They were cuts his father had made, directly or not, and Andrew traced them with soft fingers. Neil shivered. 

“Sorry,” Andrew murmured, pulling his hand away, but Neil grabbed it before it could get very far. 

“No, it’s fine,” he placed his hand back where it was. “Really, I don’t mind you seeing...” he shook his head. “It just feels weird... but nice.” Neil shrugged a shoulder and bent one leg enough that his thighs rested on Andrew’s knee. “Sometimes they hurt,” he commented. “Pull at my skin.”

Andrew looked back down at them and ran a hand along the worst of them, the discolored and mottled flesh of his chest where it looked like he’d been dragged, to the deep scars that still held traces of red irritation. That’s when he decided something in his head and stood up from the couch, only to come back a few seconds later with the cream Allison had given them. He started to open it, but Neil stopped him. 

“Andrew, you should use that for your face, not my old scars. These aren’t going anywhere.” 

_And?_

Andrew just looked at him, until Neil sighed and said, _‘fine’_.

He rubbed the cream in slowly, making sure it was all absorbed in one spot, before moving on. Neil really did have a lot, some from knives and some not. One of them, Andrew could tell, was from an iron at his left shoulder. Andrew paid extra attention to those, massaging the cream into his skin as he thought, for just a moment, that Neil looked like art - like lines coming together to form a bigger picture, a bigger story. 

 _He’s beautiful_ , Andrew thought. _And he has absolutely no clue._

Once he was finished and had set the jar aside, Neil sat up and kissed him gently on his stitched up cheek. 

“Thank you,” Neil said softly. “You were amazing.”

* * *

 

Neil woke on his own Monday morning, and that was quite the accomplishment, considering he’d mostly been woken by nightmares lately. He stretched and reached across the bed. The sheets were cold and he cracked open his eyes to see that Andrew was already gone, Sir curled in his place and King nowhere to be found. Neil wrapped an arm around Sir and brought her close to his chest. She came willingly, adjusting herself to fit into him once she was satisfied. Sir was warm and Neil let her purring fill his chest, closing his eyes again and vaguely wondering what time it was. 

He felt loose-limbed and relaxed, content even. The night before came back in pieces, from Andrew’s hands, to his lips, to his soft hair between Neil’s fingers. Something in his head was telling him how stupid he was being, thinking and ruminating and smiling into his pillow like a god damned idiot. 

He didn’t care. 

He was _happy_ here. 

A pillow hit him in the head. 

“It’s too early to smile like that,” Andrew said from his position above him. 

“Is it?” Neil asked, unphased and still smiling as he rolled over onto his back to look up at Andrew. He was still shirtless, bandages still covering the worst of his wounds, and he took an unexpected moment to appreciate the fact that Andrew didn’t flinch at the sight of his scars. “Dunno. Seems just early enough.”

Andrew dramatically rolled his eyes and tossed the pillow to the other side of the bed. “Come on. We get our stitches out today and I’m really fucking ready to be able to properly scratch my face and not talk like a fucking vintriliquist.”

Neil laughed, because he could and it felt _good_ , and rolled out of bed. 

Once he was showered and dressed and had a banana and a cup of coffee, he and Andrew made their way to the doctor’s office where they’d have their stitches removed. It was a quick process and relatively painless, compared to his experience with homemade stitches his mother pulled out for him. 

Andrew flipped the visor down in the car and rubbed at his cheek. He sighed, “Bella was right. I really do look like a pirate.”

Neil knew they bothered him and that Andrew was making a valiant effort to make it seem otherwise. But he caught his eyes lingering in the mirror, or turning his head away before he could see in the bathroom. It reminded Neil too much of himself, of how he felt seeing his blue eyes and red hair. Neil didn’t want Andrew to feel that way.

He also knew Andrew felt the same. Because Neil too bore the price of Lola’s fucked mentality. Though his burn wasn’t as big, it was still tight and angry and red. Neil knew, deep down, that Andrew was putting on a brave face for him when he shouldn’t _have_ to. 

“I don’t know,” Neil shrugged. “I think it works. Goes with your whole... mysterious asshole that might kill you, if you look too closely, thing you’ve got going on,” he teased. 

It might’ve worked. Maybe it didn’t. But Andrew did say, “Haven’t killed you yet,” as he closed the visor and started the car. 

“Yet,” Neil nodded. “I have plans for more bowls. I’m really looking forward to seeing how far I can push it.”

A smile played at the corner of Andrew’s lips - small, but there. “Me, too. I’m glad we could take this journey together,” he mumbled just as his phone rang. Andrew pulled it out and stared at the number for a long moment, before answering. 

“Who’s this?” Neil snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Huh. I don’t remember having anything else to say to you people.”

Neil raised a brow and Andrew pressed the bluetooth button on the car’s dash. He then dropped the phone into one of the cup holders and pulled out of the lot. A man’s voice came over the speaker. 

_‘Mr. Minyard, I know there were some... incidents with the last Agents you dealt with-’_

“Incidents... Hm,” Andrew hummed. “I guess that’s one way to say your people are corrupt assholes,” he mumbled. And then, “We both gave you our statements. You have Romero in custody, what else do you want from us?”

 _‘I think we can help each other,’_ the man said. _‘I think you know more than you let on, if the knives you had on you say anything, and I’m trying to gather enough information to do something about it.’_

If that bothered Andrew, he didn’t really show it. Instead, he dragged his eyes over to Neil and something silent passed between them. 

Was it the Moriyamas? Was this a person in the FBI who was _actually_ trying to do something about their reign of terror?

“Know more about what?” Neil asked. “Cut the shit and tell us what you’re implying.”

_‘Who’s with you, Mr. Minyard?’_

Andrew opened his mouth, but Neil beat him to it. “Nathaniel _fucking_ Wesninski, asshole. Like I told the other fuck we tried talking to. You know, before we were brutally attacked and almost killed.”

The Agent on the phone was quiet for a few moments. 

 _‘Agent Browning is on leave at the moment and being investigated. He’s refusing to give us any information or admit that he talked to you. What is happening in the FBI is not a secret to you or I,”_ he paused. _‘But, I need your help to do something about it.’_

Neil had to bite his tongue to stop himself from completely laying into this guy. Because _now_ they were willing to help? Not when he and his mother were running for their fucking lives? Not when they were being hunted across countries, across _oceans_ ? Not when Neil was a child at a school that was basically a money making front that involved keeping human beings - _children_ , as collateral?

“I think it’s interesting, Agent Harris,” Andrew said, and Neil filed the name away, “That you’re calling me _now_ , after we’ve dropped the audio notes with proof that Lola Malcolm was chasing us. And now what? Are you worried about what else we have? Because you should be. We have more and it’s a lot more damning.”

Neil heard the Agent sigh and smiled to himself. 

_‘I’m not worried, I’m hopeful. I want what you have, but I can repay you for this. Let’s meet and talk.’_

Andrew looked to Neil and Neil didn’t say a thing. He didn’t nod or shake his head. 

_I don’t know what to make of this._

“We’ll call you at this number when we decide.” Andrew disconnected the call and glanced back at Neil. “I think we should go to the studio.”

Neil nodded. He thought so, too.

It was time to talk strategy.

* * *

 

After a quick stop at the apartment to pick up both King and Sir, they made their way to TFN. 

Andrew and Neil hadn’t really spoken to anyone since the hospital - sequestering themselves in the apartment, and Andrew could admit ~~to himself~~ that he was a little sad it was ending. Their bubble was finally popped and even though he knew it couldn’t last forever, knew that they’d have to face this at _some_ point - it didn’t mean he fuckin’ liked it. 

They stopped just outside the doors to the studio and Andrew pulled Neil from going in just yet, King under his arm. 

“We’re going to make a plan,” he murmured between them. “We’re going to figure this out, but we’re going to do it as a team. You’re part of this now. You’re part of The Foxhole Network, and we’re going to use it to our advantage.”

“Okay,” Neil said quietly, nodding. He wasn’t sure though, Andrew could tell. And even though Andrew didn’t know what was going to happen to the podcast after this ended, still didn’t really know if they’d both make it out alive and out of prison for one thing or another - he _did_ know that he was willing to fight, and bleed, and burn to make this work. He wrapped a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and brought him close. 

“It’s you and me.”

“You and me,” Neil repeated, and Andrew kissed him quickly and soundly, before opening the doors to the studio. 

They walked down the hallway together, after letting King and Sir down and out. No one was in the lounge today. Andrew made his way to Dan’s office and walked into the open door, only to freeze. Neil bumped into him from behind. 

Dan was perched on her desk, skirt sliding up her thigh with the help of a large, dark hand belonging to one Matthew _fucking_ Lloyd. She had a Jordan clad foot wrapped around his hip and they were too busy to notice that two people had just walked into the room. He didn’t blame them though, not really. If he and Neil had been sucking face that enthusiastically, he doubted he’d notice anyone either. 

Nonetheless. Andrew cleared his throat and the two of them broke apart quickly with a noise like a fucking vacuum, that set Andrew’s teeth on edge. Matt tried to quickly back away from Dan, but she held him in place after peeking around him to see who it was. 

“What?” she asked, and Andrew raised a brow at her. 

“Why, Captain. This is _most_ unprofessional. I’m _scandalized_.”

Dan gave him a sweet smile, “No worse than what you and Dion were doing in your office I’m sure.” 

Andrew’s smile dropped and he chanced a look at Neil, but Neil wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were squinted at Matt.

“When did you get here? Should I be offended that you came straight here without even calling me?”

Matt, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. Dan just looked annoyed at being interrupted. 

Again, Andrew didn’t really blame her. 

“I just got here!” Matt exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I came straight to the studio thinking you’d be here, but you weren’t. Dan was so -”

“So you just decided to get your rocks off in the meantime,” Andrew said, trying very hard to stay serious. 

“Yeah, Minyard, we did. Now, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something?” Dan waved her hand dismissively at them. “Go away. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“But... more than a few minutes,” Matt said, smiling down at Dan. “I mean, like, you know... I don’t just -”

“We’re going!” Neil said over him, holding his own hands up. “I don’t want to know!”

They turned to leave and Dan called, “Shut the door behind you!”

Andrew did, with a nice loud slam. 

The two of them made their way into Andrew’s office instead, and Neil fell into the white chair with a cringed grin on his face. “I just... really didn’t want to see that.”

Andrew huffed a laugh, “Yeah,” he sat in his desk chair and waved the mouse to his desktop. “Parents can be such a drag.”

Neil came to lean against Andrew’s desk while he typed in his password. His hip was right next to Andrew’s arm and he could feel the warmth of it, even through his clothes, and Andrew wanted to reach out to touch but -

“So,” Neil said, ~~_but we have more important things to do, Andrew_ ~~ ~~.~~ “What do you think about Agent Harris? What do you think we should do?”

Andrew pushed away from his desk and turned to face Neil. King immediately seized the opportunity and jumped into his lap. Andrew hugged her close, kissing the top of her head before speaking. 

“I think,” he started slowly, “I think we should meet with him. Just to see exactly what it is he wants, and if he offers us the right thing.” He stroked a hand down King’s back. Afterall, they had to end this somehow, and the thought of an _ending_ was just a very vague, blurry, mirage of a thing right now. He didn’t know how they would get around the FBI, let alone the Moriyamas - who were the very real threat here.

“I think you’re probably right,” Neil mused, “but, I also think if it gets back to the Moriyamas that we said anything, we’re both immediately dead.”

_Yeah, but_

“They want us both dead anyway,” Andrew shrugged. 

Neil considered that. “True. But, if we play this right and we make it to where what we’re doing here at TFN is so public that people would notice, I think they’d think twice. You were right. Hiding in plain sight. If we both end up missing, we have a safety net - some way to get the info out about the Moriyamas, even if we’re not here.”

“Agreed. So, we’ll do it then? We’ll meet with him and see how it goes?”

Neil just nodded, just as Matt poked his head in. 

“Well that didn’t take long,” Andrew said, turning back to his computer. 

He showed Andrew his middle finger and pulled Neil into a hug, before pulling back and gently gripping his shoulders. “You look so much better,” he said, taking complete survey. “I’m glad to see you up and about. These long sleeves, though,” Matt said, tugging at the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. “You must be dying in the fuckin’ heat.

Neil glanced at Andrew in his own long sleeved shirt. They still hadn’t gotten their clothes back from the feds and Andrew didn’t have any armbands left. “I’ll live,” Neil said. “Just don’t want the stares, honestly.” 

_‘Just don’t want the stares, honestly.’_

Matt nodded and hugged him again, “Fuck... I’m glad you’re okay. The rest of the team is here. Dan sent me in to get you.”

* * *

 

Everyone was already gathered in the lounge when they walked in. And by everyone, it was everyone - Wymack, Abby, even Kevin was there. 

Neil and Andrew took a seat next to each other on one of the couches, and it took Neil a moment to realize they were all waiting for one of _them_ to start. 

“Um,” he said, not wanting to put the pressure on Andrew. “We’re back, I guess. Thank you for giving us some time to just...”

“Heal?” Renee offered. 

“Yeah, heal.”

“Of course,” She said, her usual smile replaced with something more serious, more sincere. “We’re just glad you’re both okay. Really, take all the time you need.” 

“We have, I think,” Neil said, looking to Andrew. He gave a nod in response. _Moving on_. “So, just so we’re up to speed here, Andrew and I got a call from the FBI today.”

“They went around your legal counsel? What a shock,” Abby mumbled. Wymack put an arm around her from his seat next to her. “What did they say?”

Neil chewed on the inside of his lip briefly, before inhaling a deep breath. “We spoke to an Agent who says he wants information from us. He didn’t say what _specifically_ , but it’s a pretty safe bet it’s the Moriamas. They’ve got hands in the FBI and this guy made it sound like he wants to out them.”

“And you believe them?” asked Kevin. His green eyes bounced between him and Andrew, at their _scars_. “You talk to the FBI and the Moriyamas hear, you’ll be killed immediately. None of this sending second rate hitmen after you. They’ll get someone from their inner circle specifically trained to do this, and they’ll make it look like an accident.”

_That’s what Lola was. And she failed._

~~_Barely._ ~~

Everyone was quiet. 

Andrew finally broke it and Neil was grateful because he knew, deep down, Kevin was right. That was part of the whole dilemma. 

“Thank you, Kevin, for that incredibly obvious statement.. But, if we thought we could get away with snitching on the Moriyamas, we would’ve done it by now.” Andrew wet his lips, played with his lip ring and Neil _did not_ focus on it as Andrew glanced to him, then back at everyone. “We’ve decided we’re going to meet with this guy. See what he says and what he _thinks_ he has to offer. We don’t have to say shit to him, or anyone else.”

Abby sighed, “I assume you’ll want to do this without me?”

“Yes,” Neil said quickly. _The less people in the line of fire, the better_. “If anything were to come of this, I’m sure it would be off the record. Like Andrew said, we’re just going to talk to him, see what he has to say.”

Seth was shaking his head before Neil even finished. “I don’t trust this. You’re going to meet with this guy and we’ll never fucking see y’all again, and they’ll be able to cover it up just because they’re fucking feds.”

Allison nodded in agreement from beside Renee, and the others looked skeptical as well. 

Matt was shaking his head. “I don’t like it, Neil. I don’t trust it.”

Neil sighed and ran both hands through his hair. They still hurt a little, as did his arms, but he was used to pain and they were healing quickly. Nonetheless, he took the moment to relish in the pain for now, because this was _frustrating_ . They didn’t understand and though he never wanted them to be _able_ to understand, it was still frustrating nonetheless. He closed his eyes when he felt a warm hand on the back of his neck. It was then, and only then, that he looked to Andrew who was watching him with a furrowed brow. 

 _‘Do you want me to tell them to fuck off?’_ he asked Neil with his eyes. 

 _‘No_ ,’ Neil’s own said back. _‘No, they need to understand.’_

He looked back to the room at large and ignored the raised eyebrows and smug half-smiles. 

“I’m going to die,” Neil pushed on. No one responded, but Andrew stiffened beside him. “One way or another, short of a miracle, I’m going to be killed. That’s just the way it is and it’s the way it’s been since I was too young to have to understand what murder is. I don’t have any option, and if I’m being completely honest here, I probably wouldn’t care so much if no one else was involved.” The hand at the back of his neck tightened to the point where it was almost painful. Neil almost raised his hand to hold onto Andrew’s wrist, but he stopped himself to take it in. “I would just keep running, I would grab a bag and a fake ID and get as far from here as my feet could carry me. But,” He shook his head, “I can’t do that anymore. Andrew is involved,” Neil glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Andrew stared at him hard. “He was there with me, and I refuse to let him lead the life I’ve had to. Because it’s a half-life, and I don’t want that for him...” He looked to Andrew fully now, but surprisingly, Andrew didn’t go to interrupt. 

So, Neil continued, “I don’t think anyone will come after you all. But you’re involved now, too.” He directed his eyes back to the room at large. “We’ve made this public. We’ve made it known that I’m here with the audio notes. Now, I have no choice but to try to end this. I don’t trust this guy either. I don’t trust any law enforcement, actually. But, I’m out of good cards here. I have to play what I have left.”

Silence. Neil looked to every single face, expecting some sort of argument... _Something. Anything_. No one said a word. So, Neil stood with a nod and made his way to Andrew’s office, closing the door when he got there and collapsing in the chair. Sir jumped and curled in his lap. 

* * *

 

Andrew stayed where he was, for now, for any questions. He didn’t want the team pestering Neil with them and while the urge to get up and follow was almost overwhelming, like there was a hard tug around his ribs urging him to go - he stayed. 

“So,” Andrew looked up to Seth. “You two are...”

_Oh you’ve got to be fucking me_

Andrew rolled his eyes and tried his fucking best not to lose it. “Yes, Seth. We fucking are, okay? Move the fuck on, Jesus fucking Christ -”

“I fucking _knew_ it,” Seth mumbled, and Dan reached over to pop him in the back of the head. 

Then, “You’re okay with this...?” Kevin asked. He was pale. 

Andrew knew talking about all of this was probably bringing back a lot of fucked up shit for Kevin. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Kevin to suffer - but he was sitting here of his own volition, talking about shit he knew was going to upset him.

So, Andrew was honest. “Of course I’m not okay with this,” he shook his head. “I’d take Neil right fucking now and run, if I thought he’d let me. But, he’s right. We have to figure this out if we want to put an end to it all.” He pressed his lips together and set his eyes on Dan. “We’ll keep you updated... let you know what’s happening. I’m sorry about the lack of info the listeners are getting, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Nei’s life and safety are more important now, than getting episodes out.”

Dan waved him away and though concern was written all over her face, she said, “It’s fine. You’re right. This has turned into something else entirely. It’s not just a podcast anymore...”

_It never was._

“No,” Andrew said, standing. “It’s not.”

-

He found Neil in the white chair with Sir, and King jumped up to sit with them, too. The sight made Andrew feel unbearably pleased, when everything else felt like shit. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Andrew murmured, grabbing his bag and his harddrive. “If anyone needs anything, we can do it from the apartment.”

Neil nodded and stood, gathering Sir in one arm and allowing King to perch herself on his shoulder like she liked to do with Andrew sometimes. 

That _did not_ please him either. 

Andrew followed him out, but stopped only when he saw Kevin heading towards his own office. 

“Hey,” he called out, approaching him with one hand gripped on the strap of his bag. “You good...?”

Kevin shrugged. “Just worried about you,” he glanced over at Neil, who stood by the door waiting for him. “Both of you. I know Neil knows what they’re capable of... but this is real Andrew. They want to kill you. They _tried_ to kill you-” Kevin stopped and ran his hands over his face. Andrew let go of his bag and pulled Kevin's hands away until they were back down at his sides. 

“Do you really think I’ve survived the amount of fucked up shit I’ve survived, just to have some puffed up, spoiled Mafia fucks go and ruin Andrew Minyard for the rest of the world?” Kevin said nothing. Andrew didn’t stop. “No fucking way, Kevin. Just keep on doing your stupid stickball podcast and let me handle this.”

He tried. Kevin shook his head and sighed, “Fine, Andrew. Whatever you say...” he turned to continue his way to his office, and Andrew watched him until Renee grabbed his attention. She handed him a small box and gave his arm a squeeze. 

“I trust you.”

He nodded to her and made his way back to Neil. 

* * *

 

That night, they were on the balcony. It was still warm and the South Carolinian summer knew no relief it seemed. At least it cooled off enough for them to quietly relax, looking out over the meager city view. 

Andrew was smoking a cigarette, and Neil was reading Andrew’s old copy of Watership Down. He hadn’t gotten very far and was surprised to learn that it was about actual _rabbits_ , despite there being one on the cover. He still liked it so far. 

He breathed in the smell of Andrew’s smoke and closed his eyes against the memories for a moment... Only now, they weren’t just of his mother and burning cars - no. They were of Andrew on a rooftop in New York and Neil being bold enough to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, and feeling his stomach flip when his fingers brushed Andrew’s lips. 

“You should stop smoking, you know,” he heard himself say, turning another page. 

“ _You_ should stop smoking,” Andrew mumbled, taking another long drag. 

Neil closed the book, set it aside, and came to lean against the rail next to Andrew’s feet to face him. “Okay,” he nodded. “Let’s both stop.” Andrew raised a brow at him, but Neil continued with a gesture to the open sliding door. “There are _two_ cats in the house now.”

“We don’t smoke in the house.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “It’s still on our clothes. It’s called third-hand smoke, Andrew. Look it up.” Andrew snorted and Neil couldn’t help but smile a little. Wetting his lips, Neil nudged his foot with his elbow, “Come on... We’re in enough danger of dying as it is. I want you to be _healthy_. I don’t want to get out of this whole fucking mess and then find out one of us has lung cancer. The universe is just fucked up enough to do that, you know.”

It was true. Neil was just finally speaking aloud the things he’d been feeling - especially over the past few days. Andrew was someone that Neil wanted to... _be with_ . He didn’t see himself going anywhere, or _wanting_ to go anywhere, and he didn’t think Andrew saw that either. So what was the _point_ of any of this if they were just going to fucking die after it all...? 

Andrew held up the half-spent cigarette and studied it for a minute. Then, leaned over his legs and flicked it over the edge of the balcony railing. Neil grinned at him then, feeling a rush of triumph after watching it fall the however-many floors to the ground. Before he could say anything, however, Andrew took hold of his hip and pulled him down into his lap as he put his feet to the ground. Neil came willingly, arranging his limbs so he could sit comfortably while his mind idly thought _this is new_ and _I like it._

“Okay,” Andrew said. “That was the last one. But,” He held up a finger. “I’m going to be extremely grumpy, and annoyed, and twitchy for a while. So, I hope you’re prepared to coddle me.”

“Business as usual, then?” Neil asked. 

A smile twitched at the corner of Andrew’s lips. Neil wanted to kiss it. ~~He refrained.~~

“Pretty much,” Andrew nodded and then, “I have something for you.”

Neil pulled back his chin and sat up straight, so he could look at Andrew better. “A gift? And here I am,” he shook his head, smirking, “Nothing for you.” 

Andrew raised his brow suggestively. Neil felt his smirk widen, but Andrew rolled his eyes and shook his head as he reached over to the small table beside their chairs. There was a black box atop it that Neil had noticed, but didn’t pay any mind to. Nonetheless, Andrew started to open it. 

“I had Renee get these,” he started, “Since mine are with the pigs.” He pulled out what Neil recognized as his black armbands. He was confused for a moment, before Andrew said, “I had her order an extra pair for you.”

_What -_

_Me?_

Neil looked down at his long sleeves, then at Andrew’s hands as he pulled them out and handed them over. Neil rubbed them between his fingers. They were exactly like Andrew’s... Made of a soft, but thin material, so they wouldn’t be too hot. 

Neil pulled one on, then the other, and watched his fresh scars and burns disappear underneath them. 

“You don’t have to wear them,” Andrew said, setting the box back down. He pulled one down a little on Neil’s wrist and straightened it. “I just thought, maybe you wouldn’t want the looks either.”

_‘Just don’t want the stares, honestly.’_

He heard and he listened, because of _course_ he fucking did, and Neil didn’t know what to say. Yes, they were just armbands, but for the pure fact that he had even thought of him - had wanted to spare him from having bare arms to obvious bystanders... 

“Thank you,” he said, softly. “Really, they’re exactly what I needed.” He held an arm out so they could both see. 

“We _match_ ,” Andrew murmured, then lightly grabbed the arm he held out and kissed his palm. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

 

Tuesday morning, after coffee and a kiss that turned into more than a kiss, and a shower, Neil decided they should go ahead and call the Agent. So, they did. 

Agent Harris seemed eager to meet with them. Which wasn’t want Andrew wanted to hear. It set Andrew’s teeth on edge even more, but he set it aside. 

_Best shot, best shot, best shot._

They set the meeting for lunchtime on Wednesday, at TFN. Neither of them were eager to visit the Columbia FBI office again, and they felt good about making him drive all the way to Palmetto. They thought a public place would be best. Too many eyes for anyone to do anything, but at the same time, too many eyes to see too many things. 

So, they settled on TFN, and Andrew decided what they were going to do with their day. 

“We’re going shopping.”

Neil looked up at him from the floor where he’d been playing with the cats. “Shopping...? We went to the store yesterday,” his eyes squinted. “What did you forget?”

_Satan, give me strength..._

“For _clothes_ , idiot. As much as I don’t mind you wearing mine,” Neil tilted his head and smiled. **_Focus_ ** , “You _need some of your own,_ ” he said, trying to keep them on topic. “Come on. We’re going now before-”

“Before?”

Andrew ignored him. 

He didn’t _mind_ Neil wearing his clothes. Really. There was something about seeing him in his old long sleeve shirts and his comfy sweats that made him feel like he was taking care of Neil somehow and - 

_And?_

But he needed clothes of his own. Andrew’s pants were always just a hair too short in the legs and shirts too big in the shoulders. 

Neil wrinkled his nose like the very thought of shopping for clothes was something distasteful. Andrew took the opportunity to cross his arms over his chest and if he flexed them just a bit, it wasn’t _really_ his fault. 

Neil blinked, then laughed as one side of his smile rose a bit higher than the other. “Okay, okay,” he nodded. “On one condition.”

“What?”

That light Andrew had first noticed in Neil’s eyes when he’d squeezed his bicep in the grocery store was back, and it was filled with mischief. “Go for a run with me?” He leaned back on his hands. “It’s been too fucking long and I’m itching for it. My muscles are _suffering_ -” _little shit is using my words against me now?_ He said dramatically, “But I don’t want to go alone and I know you don’t want me out there all by my lonesome... vulnerable to all the big bad guys who would love the opportunity to stick toothpicks under my fingernails... would you?”

_Oh... Oh he’s good._

Andrew narrowed his eyes, already shaking his head - but even so, he saw that exact scene playing out in his head and - _ugh_ . The fact that someone snatching up Neil just so they could shove toothpicks under his fucking nails really wasn’t out of the realm of possibility and - ~~_UGH_ ~~ ~~.~~  

He just really, _really_ , hated running and, “Fine.” Andrew conceded. “ _But,_ ” he held up a finger. “We’re going down the block and back. That’s it. I’m not running 5 fucking miles just because you love to torture yourself.” 

Neil just smiled. 

-

They ran 5 fucking miles and Andrew took a full hour of bitching and complaining, before, during, and after each of their showers, before ushering Neil out to the car. 

Honestly, the shopping was almost as bad as the running. Neil had no fucking clue how to dress himself. He was like a fucking toddler that gave absolutely no fucks about fit or color or pattern. Eventually, Andrew just sighed and took a stack of shirts Neil was holding from his hands, and held them up each in turn. 

“This color will look ridiculous with your hair,” he dropped it to the floor “The cut on this will make you look boxy,” down antoher one, “Why the fuck do you think you need a polo shirt? No. No. No. No. No.” one by one, he threw them down, then picked up a blue t-shirt from the rack beside them. 

“Blue will match your eyes and slim fit will compliment your frame better.” He shoved it into Neil’s arms. “Go find jeans and I swear... to fucking... god,” Andrew looked to him seriously. Okay. _Semi-_ seriously. “If you come back with denim shorts, I’ll hand you to the Moriyamas myself.”

Neil looked endlessly amused, single brow raised, and shirt folded over his arm. He stepped into Andrew’s space. “No, you won’t. You’d miss me too much... Who else is going to unpack your apartment?”

 _This little fuck_. 

Andrew forced himself to roll his eyes and nodded pointedly to the wall of denim on the other side of the store. 

Neil turned to go, but Andrew quickly grabbed his hand before he knew what he was doing, because he got him. Neil fucking got him and that was the thing about Neil - he always had Andrew doing shit he couldn’t explain to himself. 

“No,” He said quietly. “I won’t,” he shook his head. Neil just smiled and leaned forward until he could place a soft kiss on Andrew’s neck, then made his way to the jeans. 

* * *

 

Wednesday morning, Neil and Andrew decided to head into the office early. They were due to meet Agent Harris at 2PM, but they got there at 10, both cats in tow, to fill everyone in. 

Allison was the first person they ran into in the breakroom, and she was immediately offended over Neil’s new wardrobe. 

“Oh, so you just gonna go fucking shopping and not _fucking_ invite me, Minyard? Wow,” She nodded and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she dropped her tea bag into her cup of tea like punctuation. “Okay. I see how it is.” She motioned to Neil’s arms. “Am I supposed to just _ignore_ the armbands, too? Y’all just turning into each other now?”

Neil looked down at himself and ran a hand down the first blue shirt Andrew had picked. He didn’t know clothes and he didn’t bother trying to. Honestly, he’d always gotten whatever he could find for free and the rest he picked up from thrift stores. The shirt was soft, at least, and the jeans _did_ fit well - though they were tighter than Neil was used to. 

~~Andrew seemed to like them.~~

“Sorry?” He asked, because was he supposed to be? He’d never had so many people take a vested interest in the way he looked, and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. 

“Calm down, Reynolds,” Andrew mumbled, pouring himself and Neil a cup of coffee. “He needed shit now, and shit that didn’t include a $200 pair of jeans.”

Allison clicked her tongue. “Yeah well. It does now. I’m calling Dion and having him send me some samples from Miami.” She took her phone out from her pocket, already typing away with one hand. Neil had no idea how she did anything with those fucking nails, “What size are you?” She asked, then as if realizing what she asked, she shook her head. “You know what? Nevermind. I’ll let you know what size you are.” 

Her heels clacked from the room and Neil watched her go. 

“Why does everyone care so much about what I’m wearing?” He truly didn’t understand. _Why is it such a big deal?_

Andrew sighed and turned to him, holding out an orange mug to Neil. “Because, Neil,” he said as if Neil were missing something. ~~I am~~ ~~.~~ “You’re a wounded rabbit we found on the side of the road and everyone is determined to adopt you.”

Neil pulled back his chin. “So, I’m pathetic?”

Andrew moved to leave the room, but stopped beside him as he took Neil’s chin in his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle, and from here, Neil could see the freckles that dotted across Andrew’s nose. They wrinkled as Andrew shook his head and whispered in the space, “Incredibly...” Then winked and dropped his hand as he continued walking, “Come on. Let’s go find Captain and hope she and Lloyd are fully clothed.”

Dan was thankfully, fully clothed, with Matt nowhere to be found. 

“No Matt today?” Neil asked her as they stepped into her office. “Where is he?”

“What do I look like?” She asked, pulling her braids over her shoulder as she sat down at her desk. “I’m not his keeper.”

Andrew raised a brow at her and the corner of her mouth twitched. 

“We had... a late night last night. He’ll be by later.”

 _Ah..._ Neil nodded slowly and Andrew rolled his eyes saying, “Gather the troops. We have an update.”

As soon as everyone was gathered in the lounge, Neil filled them in. 

“We’re meeting with Agent Harris from the FBI today, at 2PM. Here, in the office.”

There was immediate chatter. “And when were you planning on telling the rest of us?” Dan asked. “Does Abby even know?”

“Right now,” Andrew replied obviously. “And no. We think it’s best to leave her out of this, for now. We don’t know what this guy has to offer, and the less people know, the better.”

Seth shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”

“I have to agree with Seth,” Renee added. “There’s so many ways you can be taken advantage of here, Andrew.” She looked directly at him. “Maybe if you just called Abby-”

“No,” Andrew cut her off. “I know you’re all worried, but no.” He looked around to everyone. We’ve got a handle on this. We’re only letting you know, so you’re not surprised when he walks in here. We didn’t want to do it in an overtly public place, but we weren’t about to do it at the FBI offices either.”

No one said anything, but no one looked happy, either. Neil ran a hand through his hair. “So, it’s your choice,” he took over. “To be here or not. I don’t blame you if you want to leave and we don’t expect you guys to hang around.”

Allison laughed. It was high and filled with attitude. “You really expect us to fucking bail whent his guy is here? I don’t fucking think so. We’ll be here, and we’ll be waiting to see what this fucker says.”

Neil just nodded... because he still didn’t fully understand this. He didn’t understand why they cared so much. He knew it must be just for Andrew’s benefit... They didn’t even know him - pathetic rabbit or not. But they cared. And Andrew cared. And they cared about _Andrew_ . So, he went with it. _Trusted_ it because Andrew trusted _them_ and _he_ trusted _Andrew._

Maybe he was starting to trust them, too.

* * *

 

At 1:55PM, Agent Harris arrived at TFN. He was shown into a meeting room by a narrow-eyed Seth, and Matt, who had arrived later in the morning, was still busy trying to convince Neil to let him come in the room. 

“Come on, it’ll help to have another witness there,” Matt said for the million time. “And if he gets out of line, I can fuck his shit up. It’ll be perfect -”

Andrew snorted at the thought of this giant infant puppy, fucking _anyone’s_ shit up ~~besides Dan’s.~~ Nonetheless, Neil still shook his head. 

“I’m not putting you in a room with a fucking Fed, Matt. be smart. I’ll fill you in when it’s over.” 

Matt wasn’t happy, but Dan effectively distracted him enough for Andrew and Neil to slip into the room. Andrew shut the door behind them and they sat across from Agent Harris at the large conference table. He was alone and dressed in civilian clothes. He had a hat on his head and sunglasses hanging from his shirt. 

Hell, he was just short of a fake fucking mustache. 

“Worried about being recognized, Agent?” Andrew asked, brows raised and smirk making its way to his lips. 

“Yes,” Harris said openly. “More for your sake than mine. It’s better that no one knows you’ve talked to me.” He sat with his hands laced in front of him, eyes searching both men. 

“Tell us what you want,” Neil said, “And we’ll decide if it’s worth our time.”

The Agent sighed and laid his hands flat on the table. “I want to take down the Moriyamas.”

Neil didn’t miss a beat. “You can’t,” he started to get up to leave. “If that’s all, we’ll just-”

“I _know_ , I can’t.” Agent Harris quickly said. “I have no illusions regarding the scope and reach of the family. _But_ , they’ve infiltrated the FBI and I want to flush them out. I became an agent to stop corrupt bullshit like this, and I can’t just sit on my hands and do nothing, while I watch obvious cover-up after cover-up, take place right in front of my face.”

Andrew leaned back in his seat. He could understand that... He really could - more than anyone could understand, really. The Moriyamas had been an ethical dilemma for him and had been for longer than Neil had been in the picture. He knew, logically, there was no way he could stop them. No way to even tell listeners what they were about, when it would put himself, and so many people he cared about, in danger. The fact of the matter was, he’d hit a wall, and as frustrating as it had been - he’d had to choose between journalistic transparency and his own moral high ground regarding _it_ and the safety of his loved ones. 

Neil sat back down. “How do you expect us to help you with that?” Andrew asked. “We tell you everything we know, and then what?” he tilted his head. “It gets back to the Moriyamas and they come back on us 10 fold?” He breathed what could’ve been considered a laugh. “They’ve already sent someone to kill us and you know what? She’s dead now. And just between you and me, Agent Harris,” _Buzz_ , “I’m not looking forward to killing another lackey. But trust me,” ~~_shut up, Andrew,_ ~~ “I will if I absolutely have to.”

They stared at Agent Harris, waiting and Andrew dubtifully ignored the burn behind his ear. What did this guy think he could possibly offer them, that would make all this shit worth it?

“It won’t get back to the Moriyamas.” The Agent shook his head and looked to them seriously. “I’m going to pin this on Romero.”

_Oh?_

Andrew raised a brow at him and Neil leaned forward. The look on his face was calculating - it was cold, and it was hard. 

It sent a chill down Andrew’s spine, if he was being honest. 

“How do you pin this on Romero, without implicating us? What do we get in return?” Neil asked. 

Andrew nodded to that question and looked expectantly to Harris. 

“Romero doesn’t know Lola is dead,” The Agent started. “He thinks we’re holding her somewhere else. Thinks she’s still getting treated for her injuries,” ~~_Immoral. No matter how fucked up they are. But, okay._ ~~“I’ve managed to keep him secluded enough that word hasn’t gotten to him. Everyone’s happy just to let him rot. The Moriyamas? They don’t care about him. All I need is for him to give testimony about the Moriyamas and about people he and Lola had contact with, within the FBI.”

“Then get your information from him,” Andrew said, shrugging. “Sounds like you don’t need us at all.”

Agent Harris shook his head. “What I need is for you to help me convince him to talk. And by that, I mean I need to know exactly what happened when you were in the car with them... And exactly what was said.” He looked between the two of them. “You knew the Moriyamas were the ones that sent Lola, which means, she talked about it. If I can go back to him with detailed information,” He sectioned his hands on the table as if to explain the steps to his plan, “and tell him that Lola already sang like a canary, he’ll _talk_. He follows her lead and if he thinks the plan is to snitch on the Moryiamas, he’ll do it and assume he has a plan for protection in place.”

Andrew looked to Neil only to find him looking right back. _Could it be as simple as that?_ This didn’t mean the Moriyamas would disappear from their lives completely, but at _least_ it meant that the public would be looking at them with more scrutiny... It meant that anything that were to happen to Neil or Andrew, would suddenly put light on the Moriyamas - make them suspects and

“She talked,” Andrew confirmed. He could tell the Agent was physically trying not to lean forward. Excitement rolled off him in waves from across the table. “Not only did she talk,” he continued, “but I was able to record the entire encounter. I have exactly what she said and how she said it. I have the moment they grabbed me and the moment I killed her. I have _everything_. What do you have for us?”

“Protection,” Harris said quickly. “I can offer the both of you,” he looked between them, “Spots in witpro. The FBI will handle everything. New names, new place, new _lives_. You won’t have to look over your shoulder or worry about the Moriyamas any-”

“No.” Andrew and Neil said at the same time, cutting him off. They looked at each other and an understanding passed between them. All that would be is more running. It would be leaving behind all of this - these people... Family, _friends._

“I want everything wiped,” Neil spoke up. He set his eyes on the agent. “I want you to make Neil Josten a real person. I want anything you can get me on, to disappear. The fake ID’s, counterfeit money, all the things I was forced to do because no one gave a fuck that my mother and I were fucking running for our god damned lives. I want it to all disappear, and I want a _guarantee_ , that Andrew won’t be prosecuted for Lola’s death.

Agent Harris pressed his lips together in a thin line. He doubled down, “Witness protection is the safest option for you. I can do _all_ those things and you _still_ might be murdered. You may still be hunted and I won’t be able to get that approved.” He inhaled a deep breath and presented his hands, palm up at his offer. “Witpro is the only deal I can make you right now.”

Andrew was the one who stood then. “Then I guess we’re done here,” he shrugged. “We have what you need and more... And we’ll give it to you. But, only if we get what we want first. We’ll give you until tomorrow night to contact us. Otherwise?” He looked to Neil and got a nod in return. “Otherwise, we’re posting the rest of what we have for Audio Notes, and make your life a lot more difficult.”

Neil stood too and they looked at Agent Harris together, shoulder to shoulder, warmth seeping from one to the other. They waited, and when they got nothing, they left the room together, letting Agent Harris see himself out.

* * *

 

That night, standing side by side on the balcony and leaning over the railing, Neil asked Andrew a question he’d been wondering about, but was too afraid of the answer to bring up. 

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?” Andrew kept his eyes looking out over the edge, but Neil could see his fingers twitching. Like he was itching for a cigarette. 

“Killing Lola.”

Andrew turned to look at him then. His face twisted into something like incredulity, the scars on his cheek pulling just slightly at his eye. “Are you joking...?” He asked, pulling back his chin. “Why would I regret killing that crazy bitch? She would’ve killed the both of us, if I hadn’t done it first.”

 _Neil_ knew that... But still. He shrugged, “I know that,” He murmured. “Some people just get weird about it, that’s all. I figured that’s how you would feel, but I wasn't sure.”

“You’re not weird about it?” Andrew asked. 

Neil shook his head and tapped his hands on the railing and let out a heavy breath. “Maybe that makes me like my father... I don't know. But, if it’s between _us_ and _them_ , I’m going to choose us every time. Just like I had to do when it was me and my mother.”

He didn’t want to be like his father, and he knew in reality, just because he’d protected himself didn’t mean he was. But, sometimes he wondered if he was missing something inside... If he had a lack of empathy, or a lack of respect for human life, or if something was genetically ingrained in him that turned him _wrong_ ... _Bad._

Andrew turned so his back was against the railing, elbows resting on top. “How many people have you killed?” His voice was quiet, hushed, but honest and listening. 

Neil looked up at him - looked him straight in the eye. “Three.”

He waited for the disgust... He waited for Andrew to shake his head and walk away. Instead, Andrew just nodded with understanding shining in his eyes and -

“Lola was my second,” Andrew admitted, and Neil tried to keep his surprise locked up inside. He didn’t want Andrew to think he was judging because, really, he had no room. So, he stayed quiet and waited for him to continue. 

Andrew wet his lips and briefly pulled at his lip ring with his teeth. Neil recognized that meant he was thinking, wondering what to say or how to say it. 

“You asked me about my birth mother, Tilda,” he started. Neil nodded. He hadn’t gotten an answer then, but he just assumed it turned out to be another abusive situation he didn’t want to talk about. 

Andrew looked at him for a long moment, then pursed his lips and continued. “The whole reason I agreed to go live with her and Aaron, was because when Aaron came to visit me in juvie. He had bruises all over him and it was obvious someone was hitting him, but he wouldn’t tell me anything when I asked him. So, I agreed to go live with them when I got out.” 

“Tilda was abusing him?”

Andrew nodded. “Abusing him, drugging him up to keep him docile...” he shrugged. “She was an addict and a worthless waste of fucking oxygen.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes up to the sky. “I told her,” he murmured. “I told her to leave him alone, or there would be consequences.” _she didn’t listen..._ “She didn’t listen. I’d had enough experience with law enforcement at that point to know that calling it in would be pointless. So,” He inhaled, “I took care of it myself.”

Neil stayed quiet. He watched as Andrew opened his eyes to look up at the night above them - to the few stars that could be seen. Neil looked up too and he waited. Waited as he heard Andrew take a deep breath and waited as he looked back to him, and shrugged a slow shoulder as Neil moved his hand on top of Andrew’s and laced their fingers together with a squeeze. 

“It was a car accident,” Andrew said softly. “I dressed in Aaron’s clothes. She was so high anyway, she didn’t know the fucking difference. I got in the car and when she started trying to beat me like I was Aaron, I made sure the car hit the tree on her side.”

‘ _I made sure the car hit the tee on her side.’_

_That's how he knew -_

Neil stepped in front of Andrew, asking for silent permission and getting silent acceptance in response. He pressed his body against Andrew’s and let go of his hand, to place both of his own on either side of Andrew’s neck. There, he brushed his thumbs against his skin and murmured, “I know you don’t need reassurance,” he started. “I just need _you_ to know, that I don’t either.”

Andrew regarded him for a long moment. The light from the open sliding door dusted them in a small glow, and it hit Andrew’s eyes and turned them gold in just the way Neil said they did, what felt like forever ago. They were beautiful, really. And though they were hard and weathered with age that they hadn’t even fucking reached yet, they were honest and true, and Neil fucking knew that and _felt_ it ever since when he was 12 fucking years old and named Alex.

“We’re fucked up,” Andrew quietly said back and there was a small smile playing on his lips.  

Neil smiled back, just a bit, and teased again, “ _‘incredibly’_.” 

They stood out there like that for a long time. Sharing stories with Andrew’s arms wrapped around his waist and Neil’s elbows hanging lazily from Andrew’s shoulders. They laughed here and there and it was _nice_ \- it was comfortable and it was warm and that warmth was passed from one another in gestures like nuzzling Neil’s neck and teasing Andrew about his piercings.

What went from something so macabre, like how many people they’ve killed, turned into something soft and intimate and _light_ and Neil wanted to bask in it ~~forever~~ for as long as _fate_ would let him. 

Eventually, warmth and happiness, turned to small kisses that grew deeper with a push and a pull, and Neil tried to put every fucking thing he wanted to say, but didn’t, into them. 

He said, _I would’ve done the same. I would never judge you. You’re still the bravest boy I know._

And Andrew would deepen it in response, with a hand to Neil’s jaw to say in his own way, _‘I trust you. I’d do anything to protect you. Id’ kill her a thousand more times._ ’

And when Neil finally took his mouth from Andrew’s, when he lowered his lips to kiss his neck and received a breathy _‘Yes’_ in his ear to finally explore what he hadn’t dared to before; when he ran his hands down his chest and his stomach, feeling Andrew shiver beneath them as he eventually reached the top of his sweatpants and slipped a hand inside, he was saying

_It’s you and me._

* * *

 

Andrew woke the next morning to find himself wrapped around Neil. His chest was to Neils back and they were slotted together with nothing but sweatpants between. He blinked sleepily and tightened his grip when he realized the position they were in. _Jesus Christ,_ he laughed quietly to himself and pressed his forehead on the back of Neil’s neck as he closed his eyes again. 

“What’s so funny...?” Neil asked roughly, still half asleep. 

What was so funny? The fact that Andrew had been sleeping the best he’d ever slept lately...? The fact that it took this person in his bed to make that happen? The fact that he didn’t think he’d be okay with _any_ man in his bed for longer than it took to get off, and now he was _here._ Ready to burn the god damned world with this man if it meant they could stay together. 

~~_Ugh, Andrew._ ~~

“Nothing,” Andrew murmured, then rolled over to get out of bed after detangling himself from Neil’s limbs. Sir and King eagerly jumped up, ready for breakfast. Andrew pulled on a shirt and made his way into the living room, turning once to look at Neil - already asleep again, shirtless with the blanket down around his hips. Andrew looked away and rest his forehead on the doorframe for just a moment. He was... overwhelmed. _It_ was still too much at once, sometimes. 

Eventually, he made his way to the kitchen, marveling at how in the short time since Neil had been in this apartment, it somehow turned into a _home_ . The two of them had worked in silent tandem to unpack the boxes Andrew hadn't bothered with since moving in. Now? There were pictures on the walls and scattering end tables that no one _really_ needed. There was Bella and Bee, Nicky and Andrew and Aaron when they were all living together. Even one of the TFN team when they were still in school - Andrew with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, Kevin with an elbow balancing on his head. He picked that one up and looked at it. He had no fucking idea when this picture was taken how much he’d come to appreciate Kevin in time... Even if he was a stickball junkie. 

But those weren’t all. No, there was a new picture there, too. It’d been put into a cheap frame one of them had found in a box somewhere. The frame was too big, so the picture had been taped to the center of a piece of paper and cut to size. It worked, somehow. Andrew put the one he was holding down and picked this one up. 

It was old and worn and he’d carried it around for 13 years of his life because maybe, deep down, he knew. 

He and Neil in Arizona stared back at him - it was the one of them as kids. Tiny Andrew and tiny Neil and absolutely no fucking clue what was in store for them, but for the fact that they’d known _something_ had passed between the two of them that day. 

_‘Our eyes matched.’_

He heard a noise from the bedroom and turned to find Neil in the hallway, squinty eyes and tousled hair watching him. 

Andrew put the picture down without comment and continued on his way to the kitchen, Neil following behind. he busied himself with making coffee while Neil slid onto a stool.

“So, you’re just going to pretend like you weren’t looking at that picture and thinking about how absolutely, positively, wonderful I am?”

Andrew tossed him a banana from the ~~mixing~~ bowl Neil had carefully arranged on the counter. 

“No,” he said, turning back to the coffee maker. “I’m not.”

* * *

 

They filled the team in on what they hadn’t yesterday after leaving the Tower without a word after the meeting with Agent Harris. Admittedly, they’d been hesitant to share many details because they didn’t know where this would lead just yet. But, as Andrew said, they had to tell them _something_. 

“So, you’re waiting on a call?” Renee asked. 

Andrew nodded. “We’re waiting on a call. If he calls, we don’t post the audio notes. If he doesn’t, we post them and let him see we’re not fucking around.”

“And...you’re not going to tell us what this call will or will not entail?” Allison asked, eyebrows raised and fingernails clicking together in agitation.

“No.” 

“Alright,” Dan said, slapping her hands on her thighs and standing. “Fine. We wait until the call. Until then,” she looked at Neil and pointed one dark painted finger towards him, “you’re up.”

Neil’s head shot up from where he was inspecting his armbands and making sure they were pulled down all the way. 

 _I’m_ **_what_ ** _?_

“The fuck does that mean...?”  Neil ran through all the possibilities in his head and he didn’t like any of them.

“You two came here and said you wanted to hide in plain sight, right? Said you wanted people to know Neil was here as a safety measure? Well, now’s the time. Get on the website and start answering asks...as yourself.”

_Wait, wait, wait -_

Neil shook his head. “I barely know how to use a computer. I don’t know how to answer their questions.”

Andrew’s hand appeared on the back of his neck and he squeezed. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It’ll be fine. There’ll be a moment of surprise, but then they’ll start asking you shit like which brand of ice cream you prefer.”

“But...I don’t even like ice cream.”

“Shhhh,” Andrew said, putting on a little more pressure, eyes hinging on playful and - “I know... I know and that’s a flaw we’ll work on. But for now, Dan is right. Let people know you’re here at TFN.”

Neil rolled his eyes and sighed, “Fine. Only a few though.”

Everyone scattered to do their own duties. Dan to her office, Seth to the soundbooth, Allison out of the studio completely because, as far as Neil could tell, there wasn’t really much for her to do here now that he’d been _‘found’_.

In the meantime, Andrew had gone to get his laptop, so he and Renee remained. Neil looked anywhere but at her. 

He knew, on some level, that she was Andrew’s best friend; knew that he trusted her more than just about anyone. Maybe that’s why he was still slightly uncomfortable with her. She stood from her seat and came to sit beside him. It made it easier instead of harder though. It gave him an excuse not to meet her eye when they talked. 

“You’re good for him,” she said. 

Neil chewed on the inside of his lip and took his time responding. He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know what she meant, but honestly? She had it all wrong. 

“We’re good for each other,” he said. 

She nodded in agreement and, “I think...sometimes when we’ve been through certain things and we believe for so long that there’s no one out there who can possibly understand, the feeling of finally finding that _someone_ is perhaps, maybe the most intense feeling of internal relief.”

Neil laughed a little. “Yeah...” He nodded. “It’s nice to know there’s someone out there just as fucked up as I am.” 

_“We’re fucked up,” Andrew quietly said back and there was a small smile playing on his lips._

_Neil smiled back, just a bit, and teased“‘incredibly’.”_

Renee laughed, too. She started to get up when Neil stopped her with a question.

“Do you believe in fate?” He didn’t know why he wanted to know... Maybe it was confirmation, maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know. But he looked up at her then, full in the face and she smiled. Neil thought, then, maybe he could see what Andrew saw - the sharpness, the look in her eyes. 

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Andrew and Neil spent the morning sitting on the couch and passing the laptop back and forth. They sipped coffee and laughed at some of the asks and Neil had to ask him more than once what something meant. 

Andrew didn’t mind. 

It was endlessly amusing watching him try to navigate questions and figure out why anyone gave so much of a fuck in the first place. 

They’d been answering for a while when Seth came out, looking uncharacteristically serious. He sat on the chair next to their couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, not looking either of them in the eye.

Neil and Andrew looked at each other, and Andrew just shrugged. They waited.

Finally, Seth cleared his throat. “How much of this do you want to air tonight?”

“The rest of what we have. Why?”

Seth shook his head and rubbed his face. “I just... I just listened to the rest. To the part where they grabbed you and had you and…”

_Oh._

“Oh, fuck,” Neil whispered under his breath and Andrew leaned a little closer to him, trying to share some warmth, because he also just realized what Seth was talking about. 

_“...I was able to record the entire encounter. I have exactly what she said and how she said it. I have the moment they grabbed me and the moment I killed her. I have everything...”_

“It’s bad,” Seth whispered. “It’s not even descriptively graphic, it’s just...” He shook his head and dropped his hands from his face. “Fucking listening to her spout fucking Romeo and Juliet like - and hearing you guys scream…” Seth lowered his head and rubbed it with his hands. “I don’t want to listen to it again. I’ll post it if you want me to. I just wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted.” When he looked up, he finally met their eyes. His were red with exhaustion.

And Andrew was quiet for a moment, thinking. Was that what he wanted? _No, of course not._ _That_ was _his_ trauma and it was _Neil’s_ trauma. He knew it was bad, he’d fucking lived it. 

“Do you want to listen-”

“No,” Andrew said quickly. “No, we don’t. We lived it. Once was enough.” He sighed and looked to Neil. “What do you think? Does it send a big enough message to Harris without it?”

Neil bit his lip and Andrew realized that he now knew the difference between bites. Sometimes, when Neil bit his lip, it was on the inside of the very edge and he chewed nervously, thinking absently. Others, it was biting that full bottom lip into his mouth and those were the times Andrew knew it was because Neil wanted to be touched - wanted _closeness_. 

This was not that. Andrew reached up a thumb and gently released Neil’s lip from his teeth. He didn’t care that Seth was sitting there - Seth was too distracted anyway to comment. Neil looked to him and nodded his head in small motions. “I think it’s enough without it, and I think it’s better in our pocket right now. We have her confession on tape. If we release it we lose that edge.”

_He’s right._

Andrew nodded in agreement. “Redact it,” he said to Seth. “I’m going to record something though, to let the listeners know that something happened with Lola, since they’ve basically heard her chase us across the country.” 

Seth nodded, seemingly relieved. “Cool... Cool, cool, cool,” he inhaled. “Let me know when you want to record and we’ll make it happen.” He stood up and retreated back to the sound booth. 

Andrew pulled his laptop into his lap from the table in front of him and opened a blank document to write up something to the listeners. He didn’t realize he was rubbing the scars on his face until Neil gently took the hand he was using. 

“Are they bothering you?” he asked quietly, placing a kiss on Andrew’s fingertips before letting go of his hand. Andrew shook his head. 

“No, not right now. Just a weird tic, I guess,” he shrugged, “Like I can rub them away if I do it enough.” He place his fingers on the keyboard like he was going to type something, but just stared at the screen. 

“Why do you want to rub them away?” Andrew looked over at him like he was insane. _Was he?_ He had deep scars on his face. _I can’t hide these._

~~_Neither can he._ ~~

Neil just rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay, I get it. But I like your scars.” 

Andrew snorted. It wasn’t that he thought Neil would find him any less attractive or want him any less. Neil’s scars didn’t bother him in the least. He’d thought they looked like art, they looked like _him_. But Andrew’s covered half his face... It’s not like they helped.

“Hey,” Andrew looked back to him and Neil kissed him on his scarred cheek and then touched his own. “We match.”

* * *

 

They spent the entire rest of the day answering asks into the night. The team ordered dinner in and they waited. 

And waited. 

And waited for the call that never came. 

Neil still kept answering asks with Andrew and Seth popping in every once in a while. 

In that time, Andrew had written what he wanted to say to the listeners, and Neil read over it. 

“It sounds good,” he said. “To the point and honest.”

Andrew just nodded and took the paper back. He stared at it, but his eyes weren’t moving. “Can you imagine?” he finally whispered, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. “What it sounds like...?” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the chair. “I never want to hear it. I’d lose my shit all over again.”

Neil took the paper from his hands. “Why don’t you let me record this?” He could tell Andrew was in his head - could tell he was seeing it, reliving it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’ll go tell Seth we can start.” He went to take the paper back, but Neil held it out of arm’s reach.

“Let me do this for you,” Neil insisted. “I don’t want you to have to think about it anymore than you’ve already had to.”

“And you think I want you to?” Andrew asked, brow raised.

_No._

“No, I don’t. But _I’m_ doing this,” he held up the paper and nodded his chin to the laptop. “Answer some more asks, so I don’t have to.” Neil stood and walked to the sound booth. 

He’d never been in one before. It was a fairly large room. The window that faced the lounge that accompanied every office at TFN was covered with blackout curtains. Black padding covered the walls and it was the only floor that was carpeted. The room was sectioned in half with a soundproofed glass separating one side from the other. Closest to the door was all the electrical equipment that Neil could never dream of figuring out and several computer monitors glowing in the darkness. Seth sat in a comfortable looking desk chair with a large pair of headphones over his ears. Neil had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. 

He turned and looked surprised to see Neil. “I’m going to read this for Andrew,” he said. Seth jumped up with raised brows and took it from Neil, reading over it. He raised his eyes only from the paper and looked at him, a small grin on his face.

He handed Neil back the paper. “It’s none of my business, but just wanna let you know, I think it’s fucking cool.”

_Okay...?_

Neil didn’t even know what to say, because had no idea what he was fucking talking about. Nonetheless, “Um. Cool. So...how does this work?”

Seth got him set up in the booth, headphones on in front of a mic, and told him when to go. Neil took a deep breath and started by telling people who he was and why he was doing this. They’d know, obviously, it wasn’t Andrew, but he wanted them to know that these were words Andrew had written. 

Once he was done, Seth gave him the thumbs up and he retreated from the booth. Andrew was in the same spot, King now curled in his lap where the laptop had been. Neil picked Sir up from his spot on the couch and sat down next to him. 

“I guess now we just keep waiting?” he asked. Andrew nodded. 

“Now we just keep waiting.”

-

The call never came. Harris didn’t follow through, wasn’t willing to give them what they wanted. 

So, finally, in the wee hours of the night, Andrew called it. 

“Send it to me so I can post it,” he told Seth. 

So, Seth did. 

And Andrew did.

Posted, finished, up for everyone to hear, Neil and Andrew gathered their things and their cats and made their way to the Maserati. They drove _home_ in relative quiet, Andrew with his hand steady on Neil’s leg. 

“What now?” Neil eventually asked, because he didn’t know what this meant. No help from the FBI and they were in the exact same spot they’d been in - the exact same danger. He felt the heavy weight of hopelessness settle in his stomach...

Because he’d felt like he was so close to having a life here with Andrew... Of living, of fucking domesticity, even - which he never even really let himself fathom before. Sharing a life with someone? It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. Once. 

Now? It was too close to the surface. 

“Now, we wait,” Andrew murmured. “Maybe hearing the rest of the notes will make him realize we really are a bigger help on his side.” He squeezed Neil’s leg. “We haven’t lost yet.”

_Yet._

They made it back to the apartment and by the time Andrew had unlocked the door and stepped inside, he had a text on his phone. He pulled it out to look and with his face revealing nothing, he held it out to Neil. 

“From dear Harris.”

Neil looked and felt that hopelessness, that fear, rise in his chest and finally _fucking_ release _._ It was only one sentence. 

_‘We have a deal.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We really... really love this one omfg. We hope y'all love it as much as we do!
> 
> Now, we wanted to run something by all of you. From this chapter, we see a lot of firsts, but we also skip over most of them and/or glance over them, because we know some of you just don't want to read it. And honestly? We want to keep the integrity of the story, without turning it into a fuckin erotic novel (which, nothing wrong with those. but just not for this). With that being said, we were thinking about doing a series of oneshots in general, just so yall can see more into all the members of TFN and their relationships, but also the relationship between Andrew and Neil. For some of those oneshots, we want to explore their intimate 'firsts', because we feel like 1. it was really important to their characters in canon, and 2. it helps show you guys how their relationship is developing, rather than just skipping forward and leaving all of you wondering how we went from point a-b. We don't want them to be raunchy, but focused more on their actual relationship and how their growing together, rather than the physical side (though that will be there too, for they will be rated E).  
> The chapters will be clearly noted with - E at the end, so you can completely avoid them if you would like, and everything will be tagged, with non-sexual summaries, so anyone not wishing to read that kind of content, don't have to. 
> 
> We thought we'd run this buy you all first, especially with this chapter, to kinda see where everyone stands on the matter. Please be honest, because we really do take this seriously and value your opinions!
> 
> Anyway! Enough chatter!! We hope you love this chapter as much as we do! What a fucking journey guys... We know we say this a million times, but we are so fuckinh thankful. Truly... Like wow. We'll let ourselves get sappier for next chapter, but thank you, thank you, _thank you_. Comments and Kudo's are always appreciated and keep up with our socials tagged above to see when we'll drop next! See yall in RR's final chapter, Episode 5.


	25. Episode 5: Interview with Neil Josten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Tonight's the night. Today's the day.  
> The end.  
> Prepare yourselves, this is going to be a long Authors Notes and End Notes, so please, bear with us. But there's a lot of shit we want to say.  
> First off, thank you. From the bottom of our fucking hearts... thank you. We'll each say something at the end, but for now - We know we say this all the time, but truly, we can't fucking believe we're here - that we fuckin got here? Like? what? This went from a silly idea, sprung from an obsession with true crime podcasts, to an entire... thing!? Like... thing, thing?! A little idea, blossoming into a whole ass immersive project that we never fucking knew would become what it has.  
> And we really have no one to thank, but you all. Our honestly faithful fucking readers. We literally couldn't do it without you. Seeing comments roll in and engagement, and excitement go up - it's been... the highlight of our fandom 'careers' (is that right thing to say?) Anyway. It's been a real one, y'all. And We are eternally fucking grateful to all the support, the love, the excitement. We're going to start repeating ourselves at this point... but yeah. 
> 
> Stick around for the end. We have a few announcements for the future of RR, and a lot of thank you's, and a few other things. But, without much fuss, heres only one CW for the entire chapter:
> 
> Brief, non-explicit sexual content. 
> 
> Other than that, that's it? Wow. This feels weird... Ugh. Okay. Enjoy the chapter and don't forget to stay updated with our social medias [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RedRabbitsPod) and [Tumblr](https://redrabbitspod.tumblr.com/) , to stay updated. Yes, updated... ;)  
> ***Transcript will be up tomorrow!!

[ Piano. Sirens wailing ]

//In a heartbeat, a person can just be there and then gone.//

//Now we’d ask you to take a good look at your screen. Port St. Lucie Police need your help to find this missing mother and her 8 year old son.//

[ Run Little Rabbit Run, Run ]

//He hid behind... He thought he could hide behind a door. It was a nice door - expensive door.//

//The shocking part about a lot of these cases is how various circumstances and situations can result in somebody just completely vanishing. In a second they’re gone...with no trace of what happened to them.//

[ Orchestral music ]

//If you don’t want it found, you can take it somewhere. You could bury it. Put it in the trunk of a car and have it crushed.//

//At this point, Baltimore Police are fearing the worst.//

//We’re not talking about Runaways, we’re talking about situations where we know the people are in significant risk of harm.//

//Detectives are now working with authorities in Parkland* and no where there, have they seen this pair.//

* * *

* * *

“Do you really think I can be Neil Josten?”

They were on the roof of Fox Tower, sitting hip to hip at the edge and looking out over campus. 

It was beautiful, really - in that way mundane, ordinary things were. A parking lot, green grass, academic buildings with wearing brick and freshly power washed columns. The sun hadn’t yet reached its apex in the sky, and after a thunderstorm early that morning, the normally oppressive heat broke for a mild day. 

It was nice.

Or it would be, if Neil weren’t so anxious. 

Last night, he and Andrew had decided to wait until morning to respond to Agent Harris’s _‘We have a deal’_ text. They could have responded right then and there, but they wanted to make him sweat a little, keep him on his toes and all that. 

Now, however, they were here, waiting for the meeting that would make or break _this_ entire thing. 

“You’re already Neil Josten. Nathaniel Wesninski is dead and buried. Leave him there.”

Neil sighed and looked back out over the campus. Why? Because he was letting himself hope to overcome the nerves twisting in his middle. It was hope that this would all work out, hope that he could finally leave his past behind him - hope that he and _Andrew_ could have a _life_ here. 

He was _hoping_. 

And hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing.

“Okay...” he murmured, then inhaled a deep breath and bit the inside of his lip briefly. “Then what happens next, if this all works out?”

Andrew leaned back on his hands. They’d been twitching between his knees for the better part of ten minutes and his teeth had been grinding together just so, back and forth, back and forth. He was itching for a cigarette, Neil could tell. Maybe these questions would distract him, too. 

“What do you mean?” Andrew replied, looking at him from the corner of his eyes and nodding his head around, “You’re looking at it. This is your life now, Neil Josten.”

A smile broke on Neil’s face and he let it stay as he let out a quiet laugh and leaned back, too. “No, seriously.” He shook his head and kicked one of his feet out. “I know I’m supposedly a part of the team now, but what does that actually mean?” When Andrew just raised a brow at him, Neil kept going. “This podcast is basically over. One more episode and then it’s done. You found me, you achieved your goal, so? What then? What will you do? Will you go back to writing, or will you continue doing podcasts?”

Andrew didn’t answer, but Neil could tell he was thinking about it. He turned his eyes towards campus, at the trees, and the buildings, and the student athletes that had apparently arrived a month ago for training. Soon, there would be thousands of people around here, filling up the empty offices in the Tower as the fall semester began. 

Something ached inside at the fact that he’d never be able to have that. He wondered what it would be like, though - being a student and walking around, exploring interests he’d only been able to dip into in high school. 

Alas. 

Andrew’s phone buzzed and Neil’s heart jumped when he pulled it out. When Andrew looked up at him, the summer sun hit his eyes just so, turning hazel to honey and what was just cloudy and contemplative, to bright and clear. 

The hope swelled. 

“He’s here,” Andrew said, standing. He held out both hands and Neil held out his own, nearly healed, and allowed Andrew to help him up. However, he pulled harder than necessary and Neil ended up stumbling into him. He stayed there, leaning his weight into Andrew and enjoying the feeling of being held up. 

_Of being supported._

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” Andrew looked him in the eye, face serious and voice steady. Neil swallowed and nodded. 

They turned as one and made their way down, down, down, the stairs to get the answers to their future.

* * *

* * *

 

**_Andrew:_ **

_This is Andrew Minyard, your host of the Red Rabbits Podcast. Welcome to the 5th and final episode._

_As most of you_ **_should_ ** _know, we’ve had a new presence on the website. That same person has shown up on the last Audio Notes, which I know were... I don’t think I really need to find words for it. You all heard and we’ll explain it more later. But, for now, I should probably formally introduce, Neil Josten. My unfortunate interviewee, for the evening._

**_Neil:_ **

_That’s weird to hear._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Interviewee?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah, that. But also, Like. I spent how long running from this shit and now I’m sitting across from you like we’re on a fucking talk show or something [laughs]_

**_Andrew:_ **

_No one can resist my subtle and polite efforts._

_So, Neil Josten, formerly Nathaniel Wesninski, formerly a lot of other names including the one I first knew you as, Alex. You’re the reason for this entire podcast, and now you’re here to give us the ending._

**_Neil:_ **

_I suppose I am._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Tell me what that’s like for you._

**_Neil:_ **

_[pause]_

_I guess it’s a little... surreal. I’ve spent my entire life running and hiding and now to be here, to be so open with everything? It’s a little weird. But I’m glad to be here. We really got the best possible outcome._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Yeah... We did, didn’t we?_

_[ pause ]_

_Right. Okay, so, let’s back up before we get into that. Like, all the way back to the beginning. Sound good?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Yep._

* * *

* * *

They met Agent Harris in the same conference room they had the first time. He was ‘incognito’ again; civilian clothes, a hat, and dated sunglasses. There was a backpack with him too, and before he said anything, he pulled a folder from it and opened it on the table. He slid it across to Neil and Andrew. 

“Everything you need to legally become Neil Josten. You’ll be given a social security card, birth certificate, passport, and a South Carolina State ID,” Harris tapped his hand on the table in a brief beat. 

_Nervous._

“You’ll have to take the drivers test for a license. Wasn’t sure if you could drive or not.”

Neil looked up at him and Andrew felt a little _thrill_ in the pit of his stomach. Something snarky was going to leave those ~~full~~ lips. Andrew knew it and he was already holding back the smile he felt coming. 

“I’ve been driving since I was 11. You know, when my mom was covering our asses with a gun? I had to be the getaway. So we didn’t die, and all that.” He glanced down at the papers, then back up, “I’m sure I’ll manage to pass the test.”

_There it is._

Andrew pressed his lips together harder and sunk into his seat. 

 _Agent_ Harris wasn’t impressed. He inhaled a deep breath and gestured towards the documents. “Fill those out. I’ve also got paperwork for both of you to sign.” He reached over the table and pulled a paper from the bottom of the stack and placed it before Andrew. “This,” he sat back, “releases you of any responsibility for Lola Malcom’s death. It states that you acted in self-defense, and that you _cannot_ be prosecuted by the FBI or any other law enforcement division.” 

Andrew pulled the paper towards himself and began to read carefully.

_Because you never know what fine print Pigs or Suits try to casually slip in there._

In the meantime, Harris pointed out another paper to Neil as Neil moved through the documents. 

 _“This_ ,” Harris explained, “relieves you of all crimes you may have committed before this day. I’ve no idea what sort of things you might’ve had to do while on the run, so think of this as a blanket agreement. Anything illegal from this day forward is on you. From yesterday? It’s absolved.”

“Huh,” Neil said, pulling it towards him, “should’ve robbed a bank yesterday.”

Andrew scoffed and shook his head in admonishment. “Nice job, Josten. We could’ve been halfway to Hawaii by now.”

Neil laughed. 

Harris didn't. “I feel like I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t tell you that I think this is a mistake.” _Here we go._ “In witpro, you’d be better protected. You’d have law enforcement protecting you-” 

_Great job they’ve been doing so far._

Andrew rolled his eyes. 

“-you’d be almost impossible to find. I’m confident the Moriyamas won’t hear about your involvement, but even _I_ don’t know how deep the corruption goes, where they’re concerned. What I _do_ know, is that I can stop you from getting in trouble for these things,” he tapped the table. “But I can’t stop them from killing you if that’s what they want.”

Andrew finally spoke up. “You think witpro would stop them?” he asked, raising a brow. “Uh huh.” He nodded slowly and looked down at the page in front of him, then back up at Harris’s dumb fucking face. “You don’t know how deep it goes, so it really doesn’t fucking matter _what_ you do. If they want to kill us? They will.” He picked up a pen and clicked it. “Now, if you don’t mind, let us read and sign this shit, so we’re not here all damn day.”

Agent Harris sighed and leaned back in his chair, finally going silent. Neil and Andrew both read through the agreements, and once they were finished with their own, they switched and read each others. Finally, they switched again and signed on the dotted lines, before the only paper that was left were the forms to make Neil Josten _legal._

_Real._

Neil filled out the first and last name, then stared at the page, chewing on the tip of the pen he was holding. 

“Problem?” Andrew asked and suddenly, was struck with worry? Fear? Anxiety? Anticipation? What if he was having second thoughts about all of this? Andrew would equal parts blame and not blame him at all. 

He swallowed hard. 

“There’s just questions on here I don’t know how to answer,” Neil mumbled. “Like...” His brows furrowed, creating a small crease in between. Those blue eyes stared down, then met his own. “What do I put for a middle name?”

_Oh_

“Whatever you want.” Andrew shook his head, feigning calm as he brushed off any worry, any negative _whatever_ . “Name yourself Neil _Smartass_ Josten. Neil _I’m fine_ Josten. Neil _Sarcastic Son of a Bitch_ Jo-”

“I get it, I get it,” Neil sighed, waving a hand at him. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he put pen to paper and Andrew could just make out ‘ _Abram_ ’ scrawled across the space. 

_//Bear with me for a moment. That is probably the most important information we heard from Sarah. Bob repeated it later, as well as the rest of our interview with Sarah, but this was the first time we’d heard of the use of that name._

_Mary and Nathaniel Abrams - not Wesninski. Abrams._

_It stood out to us. Why?_

_Because Nathaniel’s full name is Nathaniel Abram Wesninski._

_Was this a way to cover their tracks? An attempt to hide in plain sight? Or was it a name given to the police?//_

‘Abram’ he silently shaped his mouth around the name, then nodded to himself and continued watching on. 

_It feels different now... for some reason._

Neil moved on to the next few questions, but stopped again. He looked back to Andrew from the side and said, “It’s asking for an address...”

“Yes?” Andrew replied, confused. They had an address, after all. 

“I just...” Neil hesitated and tapped the end of the pen on the table. “Should I put yours?”

Andrew could see the pink blooming around his ears and crawling towards the burn on his cheek. He wanted to scoff, call him an idiot, something - because what the fuck had they been doing these last few weeks?

But even he didn’t _really_ know - right?

His own words shocked him, “Yes. You should put _ours._ ”

_Ours._

So, he did. 

They finished the forms, made Dan notarize them, copied them in triplicate, and bid Agent Harris a good life and a hope to never fuckin’ see you again. 

* * *

* * *

**_  
Andrew:_ **

_Renee and I started this podcast with a trip to Baltimore, to the Wesninski house._

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah... what the fuck were you hoping to find there anyway? Did you think I’d be stuffed in the walls or something?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_You act like that wasn’t a real possibility._

**_Neil:_ **

_It would’ve meant you tearing into the walls, and I don’t see you risking the splinters, or chipping your polish._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[laughs]_

_No, smart ass. We just wanted to get a feel for the environment. Poke around a little, I guess. While we were there, I needed to try and get the police reports anyway, so... And no, we didn’t really find anything useful. But we did find one thing._

**_Neil:_ **

_don’t be bad._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Don’t be bad._

_[ deep breath ]_

_Now, listeners, I just want you to know that Neil has told me, very colorfully, exactly how he felt about me finding, photographing, and putting everything on air._

**_Neil:_ **

_Not good._

**_Andrew:_ **

_No, not good at all. So, while at the time it seemed like a good idea, I would take it back if I could. But, I can’t. Do you want to add anything to that? Explain in your own words?_

**_Neil:_ **

_I mean... I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to most people that Nathan Wesninski was a bad person, who did bad things, and  those things extended to his wife and son. I was, I think, 5 years old when I wrote that? [pause] I don’t really want to go into what happened. Suffice it to say, I was small and I thought i **t** was my fault. _

**_Andrew:_ **

_I think that says more than enough. Renee and I left the house that day, and it was incredibly hard for me not to feel guilt about it. I knew, logically, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I was in that same position more times than I’d like to admit._

_I’ve shared with listeners and of course, you, that I grew up in foster care. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fun, and there were many times I hid in closets and under beds and wondered what was wrong with me._

**_Neil:_ **

_You’re right, feeling guilty was useless. But I also know that our kind of – shared trauma, I guess, is the reason why we connected as quickly as we did. We both know how it feels. Something really sad and really fucking horrible that I’m sure all children who have to go through that kind of shit share._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Unfortunately, you’re right._

_I feel like we should go back further though, now that we’re getting into this._

**_Neil:_ **

_You don’t mean…_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Yeah, Neil. The Grand Canyon._

**_Neil:_ **

_Aww, I love this story. You tell it so well._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Why, thank you, Neil. [ sarcasm ] But I kind of want to hear it from your perspective._

**_Neil:_ **

_Why? It’s your show._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Not anymore._

* * *

* * *

A few days passed before Neil got his paperwork. It was delivered to TFN via courier, and once the folder was in hand, Neil and Andrew shut themselves in Andrew’s office to open them. 

Neil took the items out with shaky hands. 

 _You’ve done this so many times_...

Taking documents out of manila envelopes and looking at fake names, fake birthdays, fake pictures. 

But, this? This was different. He was now officially _Neil Abram Josten._ Address 1212 Baldwin Drive. Apartment Number 203 - which he shared with his... _whatever_ and their two cats. 

He was a _real_ person now. With a job waiting for him at TFN and a _life._

He hadn’t realized he was staring at everything spread before him, until Andrew was on the floor in front of him, leaning forward on his knees. Andrew’s hands came into view as he took the documents from Neil and Neil let him. Andrew looked through them, lingering here and there on the brand new birth certificate. Eventually, they all passed inspection and Andrew set them aside to look up at Neil with his hands on his thighs. 

“Welcome to the world, Neil Josten. It’s still shit.”

Neil laughed and ran a hand through Andrew’s hair, cupping his jaw on the way down. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging a shoulder and studying Andrew’s eyes, nose, mouth, _scars_. “Doesn’t seem so bad.”

Andrew leaned closer for a quick kiss, before getting back up and sitting in his desk chair. King jumped into his lap automatically and Neil moved his eyes from them, to Sir atop the cat tree, watching over the room like a very bored gargoyle. 

He watched her, marveling at how he’d tried so hard not to become attached. 

~~To a few things.~~

With a deep breath, Neil looked down at his papers, “So, now that this,” he waved, “is official, are you going to answer me?” He looked up at Andrew and realized, he expected Andrew to be confused - to pretend he didn’t know exactly what Neil was talking about. 

But, he didn’t. He just plunged a hand into King’s fur and lifted his eyes to Neil's. 

“I want to keep going.”

Neil busied his hands with gathering everything back together to put back into the envelope. He didn’t look up as he asked, “With what?”

“The podcast.” He did then. _What the hell is he talking about?_  

“But... it’s over, isn’t it?” Neil tilted his head. “I’m here. What else is there to do?”

Andrew stood and King jumped off his lap to join Sir on the tree. Together they perched, judging as Andrew paced, teeth chewing on his lip ring and Neil remaining silent. He let him gather his thoughts until finally, Andrew leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“What if we did it together?” he started, eyes on the floor, then up on him. “What if we did it together and kept the theme? Search for Red Rabbits, for answers in cases that haven’t been solved? We can concentrate on children - find cold cases of missing kids that no one has paid attention to. Children of color who don’t get the same coverage as white kids. Poor kids.” Andrew stopped and stared back down at his shoes. They were beat up black converse, since the cops had taken his boots and he hadn’t gotten another pair. Eventually, he looked back up to Neil and Neil held his breath for whatever was coming next. “Foster kids.”

_Ah._

Neil didn’t know what to think. He hesitated, trying to understand his own jumbled thoughts, before speaking them out loud. 

Andrew continued before he could. “We need to stay in focus,” he implored. “We need to be public, and followed, and we need to do it _soon_. I don’t want to lapse, because if this plan is going to work - if we’re really going to keep the Moriyamas off our backs - we can’t hesitate, Neil. We can’t let people forget about us.”

_But -_

Neil stood and instinctively gathered Sir from the top of the cat tree. His hands were beginning to shake, so he hugged her close to his chest and kissed the top of her head as he tried to sort what he wanted to say. Evidently his mouth was moving before his head could catch up as he asked, “Is that the reason why you want to do this?” He lifted his eyes to Andrew’s, “To keep the Moriyamas away?”

The answer was immediate, “Part of the reason, yes.”

Neil shook his head and set his chin atop Sir’s head as he felt her steady purr fill his chest. It was grounding, it helped him realize exactly what he _did_ and _did not_ want and _why_. 

“I don’t fucking want that for you,” he started quietly. “I don’t want you to have to do something just for my sake. I just -” He inhaled a deep breath, “I just don’t fucking like that. Especially after everything you’ve had to go through for me-”

Andrew suddenly pushed himself off the wall to approach Neil. He took his hands from his pockets and leaned his body towards Neil’s as he stopped halfway, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard what I said,” Neil shot back, turning around and letting Sir jump back on the tree. “You almost died because of me, Andrew,” he said over his shoulder. 

Andrew scoffed, “Because of _you_? Are you fucking kidding me? Like I didn’t lead them straight to you? Like I’m not the reason the Moriyamas gave a shit about you while you were in New York? Like I didn’t expose shit that I had no right -”

Neil found himself across the room, taking Andrew _gently_ by the jaw and kissing him, to shut him up. The response was automatic, Andrew kissed him back and it was like a fight. It was pushing and pulling, hands in hair and kisses so hard, Neil was sure he’d cut his lips on his own teeth. 

Somehow, Andrew ended up in the white chair with Neil straddling his lap, and it was Neil who pulled away first, because _this is so fucking stupid_. He touched his forehead to Andrew’s, laughing and said it aloud. 

“This is so stupid.”

“ _You’re_ so stupid,” Andrew mumbled. 

Neil tugged his hair in retaliation and pulled back to look at his face. Slowly, he sighed and shook his head. “We’ve got to stop doing this...” he murmured. “We’re both so eaten up with guilt over shit that probably has nothing to do with either one of us...”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Listen,” he made to get up, but Andrew squeezed his hips and he took it as a sign to stay. He moved his hands to his shoulders instead and tapped his fingers with what he had to say. “I’ve already handed you your ass over what you did. I still think it was an asshole move to put all the shit you did on the air - but, honestly? From this side of it, it doesn’t seem so bad.” He shook his head. “Look at where we are now... I’ve never cared before, never really thought I could have a life at all. But, you make me care. You make me _want it_ and I’m so fucking glad you found me.” He stopped his tapping and trailed one hand back up to his jaw to run his thumb across it. “I’ll never blame you or regret this.”

He searched Andrew’s face for a response, but found a mostly blank slate before him. He was too good at hiding shit. 

Eventually, “I would never blame you for this,” Andrew said quietly. “Ever,” he shook his head. Then - “I could’ve died a hundred _fucking_ times in those woods with Lola’s knife buried in my chest, and I still would never blame you.”

Neil passed his thumbs along Andrew’s jaw once more, then leaned forward so that their foreheads touched again. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” the air felt heavy and quiet, all of a sudden. “Because you’d be dead and I would have to avenge you.”

Andrew’s nod was serious, eyes hard but with that playful _edge_ , “I’ll accept nothing less than full vigilante with tragic backstory and lots of eyeliner. Deal?”

Neil felt a smile spread across his lips. He kissed Andrew’s forehead, “Deal.”

* * *

* * *

**_  
Neil:_ **

_[Audible sigh]_

_Fine, fine. We got into this in the Audio Notes, so I think they know most of it, anyway. Basically, Andrew and I met at the Grand Canyon when I was 12 and he was 13. He yanked me away from…_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Someone I knew to be abusive._

**_Neil:_ **

_Right. A giant bag of dicks, basically. So, Andrew pulled me away and we hid in this tiny snack shack that was closed for maintenance. And by hid, I mean he picked the lock and dragged me in there._

_Then, we just... sat and talked. Andrew gave me skittles because I said I like fruit, acting like it was the same thing._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[ interrupting ]_

_Close enough._

**_Neil:_ **

_And we just talked. Eventually we kind of… admitted our mutual misery, I guess? We connected because we both knew what it was like to feel like…_

**_Andrew:_ **

_The destruction of the smallest things._

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah..._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Before we left, we made a promise._

**_Neil:_ **

_A pinky promise, even. Unbreakable - That we would help each other get out. If ever able._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Right. Now, let me preface this by saying, I had no idea that I kid I met in Arizona was Nathaniel Wesninski. It wasn’t until the doc aired and I started really looking into things, that I realized it. I found the family picture in my research and - [ sigh ] If I’d’ve known sooner-_

**_Neil:_ **

_[ interrupting ]_

_Stop doing that. You didn’t know, and I didn’t know, and_ **_no one_ ** _knew. That was the whole point of my existence, Andrew. To stay unknown._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_You did a good job._

**_Neil:_ **

_Until you meddling kids ruined it._

**_Andrew:_ **

_It’s what I do._

* * *

* * *

Andrew was waiting for it - for any sort of sign that the Moriyamas were being investigated. 

There was nothing.

No word.

No suspicious news article. 

Not even anything about Romero. 

Every day there was _silence_ and that put Andrew more and more on edge. 

“No news is good news, right?” Seth asked. 

They were all still coming to the office, and Andrew didn’t even know why he was fucking there. Seth, Dan, and Renee at least had other shit to work on - other podcasts and jobs. Andrew didn’t. Allison was even back in Miami for the time being, and the only reason this had any affect on Andrew was because **1.** She took Dion with her, thank fuckin’ god, and **2.** Renee was also out of the office more than usual. Andrew assumed it was in an attempt to stay busy against missing her, but it was admittedly boring without her there. Even with Neil. He sort of missed being able to look over and give Renee a look after Neil said something especially stupid, and to have her just smile and shake her head. 

All of this is to say that Andrew had to find ways to fill his time. 

It wasn’t hard. 

He was researching, hunting leads. He was _digging_. 

And he hadn’t told anyone. 

Meanwhile, Neil was shown the ropes of the studio by one person or another. Hell, he even sat in a few times while Kevin recorded **Dayly Exy.** Turns out, he liked learning the sound board and all its complexity. He even liked sitting with Dan and going over how she scheduled everything. 

_Really, he probably just likes feeling useful._

_So do I._

Andrew poured over his laptop, chin resting on a hand and leg bouncing. His mind had been going around itself in circles, thinking 

_Something, something, something. I have to find something. Something we can do... that we can tear apart. Something -_

“Hey.”

Andrew startled and spun around in his chair. Neil was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and brows furrowed as he watched Andrew and leaned against the doorframe. 

“You okay...?”

Andrew just nodded and looked back to his computer. “Just doing some research.”

“Mmm,” Neil hummed. “Well, whatever it is, put it on hold. Let’s go grab lunch, I’m starving.”

Andrew put his computer to sleep without complaint and stood to follow Neil out. They were in the parking lot, summer sun beating above them as they headed towards the Maserati, when a sleek black limo with tinted windows pulled into it. Andrew immediately stopped and held out an arm so Neil’s chest ran into it. 

“Who the fuck-”

_Oh you’ve got to be shitting me._

The car stopped and a young Japanese man got out of the drivers’ seat to open the back door. Andrew waited for someone else to get out, and it took Neil poking him in the back before he realized _they_ were supposed to get _in_. 

“You’re fucking joking, right?” Andrew called to the man. “You can’t seriously think we’re going to get in there?”

“Andrew,” Neil hissed from just behind him. “Just go. Someone else could walk out here and get caught up.” He poked his back again, this time harder, “ _Go._ ”

Andrew turned to look at him, eyes wide and jaw clenched. He _had_ to be fucking kidding? Getting in that car was the last fucking thing -

He heard a click. Andrew whipped his head back around and although he didn’t see one, he knew knew it was the sound of a gun cocking. And although logically, he knew there was no way they’d be shot right there in the parking lot, it was enough to make him finally move his feet. 

Together, they walked, Neil holding tight to Andrew’s shirt. He glared at the man holding the door open like it would _do_ something, and slid into the backseat with Neil sliding in with him. 

There was another Japanese man. He was maybe in his 30’s. He sat in the seat across from them and stared at them stoically. He had long hair that was tied back into a ponytail, and where Andrew thought it should make his face look softer with pieces brushing across his sharp cheeks, it only made him look more severe - like he purposefully pulled his hair back so as to not get blood in it. 

_Great._

The driver got back into the front seat and before Andrew could do or say anything, the car was moving. He quickly opened his mouth to protest, but Neil put his hand on his leg and gripped right above the knee to shut him up. 

Which was a feat on his own. Andrew bit down into his tongue as the limo pulled them out of the lot and down perimeter road. He glanced out the window to see the trees pass and could practically hear both his and Neil’s heartbeats ringing in his ears - like he was responsible for both. 

The man stayed staring at them the entire way, gaze hard, cold, and unmoving. 

It didn’t take long before they pulled into one of the new construction lots for a film and arts building PSU had been working on for the better part of two years. It stood against the afternoon skyline like a silent skeleton. No teams moved about, no power tools hummed in the air. It was dead and Andrew briefly thought, 

_Perfect place to dump a body._

_Didn’t they do that in Punisher?_

_Push a guy into cement and -_

~~_Stop._ ~~

“Do you know who I am?”

The man’s voice cut through his subconscious and directed Andrew’s attention straight to him. His brows furrowed because no, Andrew didn’t fucking know. He was obviously someone connected to the Moriyamas, but -

“Lord Ichirou,” Neil said. “Of course.”

_Are you fucking -_

Andrew wanted to laugh. This was fucking ridiculous. Of _course_ this wasn’t even a fuckin’ lacky. This was Ichirou himself. The head of the entire fuckin’ family, right here in Palmetto. In a car. 

With them.

“Yes,” Ichirou said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun. Andrew’s hand immediately found Neil’s thigh this time and a million scenarios ran through his brain. Each one ended with a bullet in Neil’s head. 

“You’ve both caused me a great deal of annoyance,” he said conversationally, pulling out a white cloth as he began cleaning the gun. 

Which, in all honestly, seemed fucking pointless, as Andrew was pretty sure he could already see his own reflection in it’s god damned barrel. 

“At the time, I’d decided to take you out before you became more than just a small pest. That is why I sent the woman after you. Obviously,” he sighed, “she proved incompetent as you’re both here and not in a hole somewhere... as you should be.” He spoke slowly, like every word he uttered held weight. 

They didn’t. 

“So sorry to put a kink in your plans, _Lord_ ,” Andrew said. He couldn’t help himself. He fucking hated this guy. He hated anyone that thought they were worth more than their fucking salt and _him?_ Cleaning his fucking gun like he was going to shoot them right there. Honestly, Andrew was at the point of _do it_ or _don’t_ , jesus fuck. 

Like Ichirou could hear what he was saying, he lifted his dark, stony eyes to Andrew. His face remained impassive. “You have quite the mouth on you. Very... _loud_ ,” he said with distaste. 

Andrew opened that loud mouth to thank him, before Neil cut him off. 

“We’ve never intended to get your family involved in _any_ of this. We didn’t know Lola was sent by you, until right before she died.”

“And if you had known?”

Neil didn’t say anything, because the truth was evident. It wouldn’t have changed anything and they probably could’ve guessed it at that point anyway. 

Ichirou sighed and put the cloth back in his suit jacket. He leaned against the seat and crossed his legs, but kept the gun resting on his knee. 

“You know,” he started, nodding slowly, “I actually admire your determination, idiocy,” he tilted his head as if trying to come up with another word. “Whichever you’d like to call it.” He vaguely gestured with the gun and Andrew’s eyes followed it’s movements until it was set back on his knee. “Giving the FBI the recording you had in order to implicate us in _your_ murder and the woman’s plans,” he shook his head. “That took a lot of idiocy.”

_Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

They’d banked on the Moriyamas not knowing they were involved. He didn’t know _why_ , now that he was seated in front of the almighty _Lord_. But it was gone. They’d lost their only card. 

And Neil obviously realized that too because he heard him suck in a breath. 

“I can tell by your faces, you didn’t intend for me to find out,” Ichirou said, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. “You _really_ underestimate me... The reach I have.” He shrugged an errant shoulder. “But, I must admit. I underestimated you as well, it would seem. You’ve been smart,” he looked between them. “You’ve made yourselves known and _public_ . Now, we’re under the eye of the federal government, which means every move we make is being closely monitored. It’s genius really.” His eyes widened a fraction, but Andrew knew it was all an act. ~~_Obviously_ ~~ ~~.~~ “If I were to kill you now, like I want to, it would mean an entire investigation I do not have the time or the patience for - and paperwork. I _loathe_ paperwork.”

He was like a fucking Hollywood villain. Subtle dramatics that meld together into something real and terrifying - the type of villain that went beyond the screen and haunted your entire way home. 

_This is real._

He and Neil remained quiet. 

That’s when Ichirou picked up the gun and studied it for a second. He then leaned forward, and Andrew watched in slow motion as he held it to Neil’s forehead, right between his eyes. 

Ichirou cocked his head, brows furrowing. “Or would it? It would be very easy, I think. I could make it happen and suffer the consequences. It would take an awful lot of money to make it disappear,” he said conversationally - like he was talking to them ~~, or himself **.** ~~

Andrew’s hand was still on Neil’s leg and he squeezed even tighter. His mind ran through the possibilities, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move - couldn’t breathe. Neil, for his part, didn’t even blink. He stared Ichirou right in the face, like he was daring him to pull the trigger. 

_Fucking idiot_

“We’re not a problem for you,” Neil said, voice hard and steady. “We have no intentions of implicating your family any further.” He paused for a moment. Not because he was _scared_ , persé, Andrew realized - but because he was letting his words sink in. A shiver raced down Andrew’s spine. “We were pressed to give the feds the recording, in exchange for a dismissal of charges they could bring against us. We were _told_ , they were going to pin everything on Romero and we didn’t even know what they had planned for you.” He could see Neil’s brow twitch, like he wanted to raise it. Instead, his eyes steeled over even more. “We assume you’re indestructible.”

 _Liar, liar, liar_. 

Andrew almost thought he’d spoken that aloud, when Ichirou turned to him and moved the gun from Neil’s head, to Andrew’s neck. ~~_Great. So it wouldn’t even be a fuckin’ immediate death._ ~~“What about you, Mr. Minyard? Am I still going to have to deal with your mouth?” he asked. “Am I going to have to send my worthless brother to talk to the press about the garbage that comes out of that mouth?” The corner of his lips tilted up just a bit, “It’s all he’s good for, but I like to keep him on a tight leash.”

Andrew swallowed hard and met the other man’s eyes. “I have nothing to say about you or your family.”

Ichirou watched him for a second more, before leaning back and returning the gun in a holster hidden under his jacket. 

“Then that’s that, I suppose,” Ichirou didn’t say _lightly_ , but it had an air to it that was... threateningly resolved. “We’re going to keep an eye on you,” he explained. “You’ve done an impressive job making killing you difficult, but,” his expression hardened once again. “Rest assured, it’s not impossible. I can still make it happen - make it look like an overdose... or a murder suicide. Or like two very sweet lovers ran away together, never to return to their boring lives.” He gave a pointed look to the hand Andrew still had on Neil’s thigh. 

“Thank you,” Neil said, tightly. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know I don’t.”

Ichirou knocked on the roof and the door beside Neil opened again. Andrew blinked against the brightness of the sun filling the car. He moved the hand on Neil’s thigh, to his shoulder and began to push him out gently, when, “Oh, and gentleman?” They stopped and looked back. “If I ever have a need of you, I will be calling. Keep your phones on.”

Somehow, that made things worse.

Like a sinking stone, something settled heavily in Andrew’s stomach and he pushed Neil the rest of the way just to get away from that fucking man. 

Once they were standing on the dirt lot, the door closed behind them with a punctuated, final slam. 

-

They were stranded there. Which was fine. 

The walk back was long. It was grounding, opposite to what grounding _should be_. It was like the stone was pulling him deeper into the pavement of Perimeter road as they walked, reminding him that one misstep could send him deeper and deeper into the dirt. 

Neither of them spoke the entire way back to the tower. Lunch was forgotten and it was only once they were back inside Andrew’s office with the door closed, that Neil collapsed to the floor in what was the beginning of a panic attack, and Andrew dropped down beside him.

* * *

* * *

 

 **_Andrew:_ **

_Okay, now that’s out of the way, I feel like things will make more sense going forward. So, [ clears throat ] we went to Baltimore. We went to Florida. You told me you remembered Reynolds?_

**_Neil:_ **

_I did. She was the first kid to talk to me in like a year or something. We were in Key West for only a day or two, I think? But she’s what I remember most clearly from that time._

**_Andrew:_ **

_During that trip, we found out that your mother visited someone who specialized in counterfeit papers. ID’s, money, all the good stuff._

**_Neil:_ **

_All the stuff someone needs to cease existing, yeah. There were a few of those, I think. She tried to keep me mostly out of it, but it was harder the older I got. That time, she bought the papers for us and that’s when we skipped to Europe for a couple of years._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Where did you live in Europe?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Let’s see..._

_[ pause ]_

_Austria, Germany, France, Switzerland... We were in Germany when Nathan’s men caught up to us and went back to the US right after -_

_You know, I actually never knew Anais’s name before you interviewed her. I remember that day though. It was rare I got to run around and have any fun... I remembered Karl too, but I didn’t play with him or anything. He was just a kid that I sat near when I was pretending to be interested in school._

**_Andrew:_ **

_One thing we heard from multiple people, that I’d really like to give you a chance to explain, is how Mary was always reported as treating you. Both the Europe witnesses claimed she was rough with you and we had a few listeners send in asks about that. I’ve always been hesitant to go there because I just didn’t have the solid evidence I felt like I needed to call it abuse._

**_Neil:_ **

_[pause]_

_I’ve been on my own for a while, and now that I’m an adult, I can admit it was borderline abusive._

_But, [ deep breath ] here’s the thing about my mother._

_She did absolutely everything she could to protect me. She could’ve left me there with him, to either be killed or_ **_become_ ** _a killer. She made a hard choice and only accepted outside help if she absolutely had to - and even then, she never told anyone exactly where we were. She was... terrified._ **_I_ ** _was terrified. I think it was just a really bad situation and to be honest? I’m not a parent. I can’t imagine what was going through her head every time we were almost killed._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_So you don’t blame you mother, if she was rough with you?_

**_Neil:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_It’s not that I don’t blame her, I can just see why it happened. Fear makes people act irrationally. If I’m being real, I’m more grateful to her for getting me out of that house and keeping me alive all those years, than anything else._

* * *

* * *

 

Neil sucked in a breath. 

Or tried to.

He couldn’t fill his lungs with air.

Sir was circling him nervously. She tried to climb into his lap, but couldn’t, so she settled for squeezing herself as close to his hip as she could. 

Andrew took him by the arms and gave him a gentle shake. 

“Neil. _Neil._ Look at me.” His voice was close, but so far. It was like Neil was on one side of a tunnel and Andrew was at the far end. He was _there_ , but unable to be reached. 

He tried though. He really did. But his eyes were blurry and the room was spinning and

_There was a gun. It was held to Andrew’s neck and, and, and_

Andrew pulled Neil forward so that he fell into his chest. It was like when they were in the backseat of the Porsche, running from Lola. Andrew held him through the panic attack then. He was doing so now, but this time the touch was firmer, more sure, more steady and grounding and _needed_.

Neil closed his eyes and let himself go pliant. He buried his face into Andrew’s neck and breathed him in. Breathed in his shampoo, the body wash they shared, the lingering smell of cigarettes they hadn’t yet washed from their clothes, the - 

Neil clutched his shirt and finally, took proper air into his lungs. 

Andrew wrapped his arms around Neil’s shoulders and rested his chin on top of his head. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly. “This was the best case scenario. We wanted to make it too hard for them to come after us, right?” Neil felt Andrew’s fingers bury into his hair. He held on tighter. “We’ve done that.”

Somehow, Neil found his voice to say, “I know that.” It was raspy, like he’d been screaming. ~~He hadn’t.~~ Maybe it was because he was holding his breath again. He inhaled deeply and continued. “It’s just...” It’s just, that wasn’t the issue here. “Having Ichirou Moriyama here in this place...” was. Neil shook his head. 

_I’m not explaining this right._

“This is _our_ space,” he said more clearly. “ _Ours_ , Andrew. And he came here and held a fucking gun to your neck and-”

Andrew pulled back enough to see his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes incredulous. “He held a gun to your head, Neil,” he said simply. “Right between your fucking eyes.” He looked between them now. “Do you think I didn’t feel exactly what you did? Watching that?”

Neil didn’t say anything. At the time, he’d been determined not to show any weakness; not to let it show that he was terrified for Andrew’s safety. There wasn’t a worry or a thought for himself. _I mean,_ this wasn’t the first time he’d ever had a gun held to his head, and he didn’t think it would be the last. 

Andrew pulled back more so he could look Neil better in the face. “ _This_ is why, Neil.” He moved the hand in the back of his hair, down to Neil’s neck. He squeezed. Neil swallowed hard. “ _This_ is why we need to move forward with the podcast. We need another case and we need to start researching. As soon as possible.”

_But-_

Neil opened his mouth to argue. 

Andrew wouldn’t let him. Because Andrew knew exactly what he was going to say. “No,” he said firmly. “They’re not the only reason I want to do this. I want to help more kids forgotten by the system. I want to make a difference for kids like us who didn’t _have_ that chance. _But,_ ” he stroked his thumb against Neil’s skin. “I also want to stay in the open where the Moriyamas have to think twice about anything they may want to do with us.”

He was right, of course. Neil _knew_ he was right. But still...

“I can’t do a show with you, Andrew. I can help you research and I can travel with you, but I can’t do the whole -” He shook his head, “Talking to people, and writing scripts, and everything else. Hell,” he scoffed. Which was a good sign. “I can barely talk to the people in this building and I make an ass of myself every time I try to answer asks on the website, because half the time, I have no idea what anyone is fucking talking about.” He looked down between them. “I can help, but you’re going to have to be the one in the spotlight...”

Andrew shook his head. Neil lifted his and God, this man was so fucking infuriatingly stubborn. 

~~_I hope he never changes_ .  ~~

“We can do this,” Andrew said confidently. Or seemed confident, at least. “Do you think I’m someone who should be communicating with people regularly, for fuck’s sake?”

Neil let out a small laugh. Another good sign. The tension between them was dissipating and breathing became a _bit_ easier. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”

Andrew nodded, “I don’t suppose I am.” His eyes went a bit wide behind his glasses. “Yet, I do and I manage fine. Just because it’s something you’ve never done before, doesn’t mean it’s something you shouldn’t do.”

“But-”

Andrew shook him gently and lifted his other hand to push Neil’s hair back from his forehead. Neil could practically see what he was thinking behind his eyes as he did so. _Stupid fucking curl_ ringing loud, yet silent between them. 

It almost made Neil smile. 

“No,” Andrew said. “Just... listen to me.” Then inhaled a deep breath as those gold eyes met his. “Harry Potter didn’t cast a single successful spell in the entirety of the first book.” His eyes were widening again, imploring Neil to understand. 

Neil didn’t think he’d ever seen him this excited or determined. 

And yet, he had no fucking clue what he was talking about. “What... the fuck does that mean...?”

“Not _one_ fucking spell, Neil,” Andrew continued. “And by the end of that series, he was a great fucking wizard, just using common fucking sense, for shit that should’ve gotten him killed. It was all _guts_ and _luck_ and _friends._ ”

“I’ve never read-”

“It doesn’t _matter_ . Just listen,” He stood and pulled Neil up with him, holding onto his hands. “In the end, he still won the whole game. This? Right now? This is your first book, Neil. This is it. Now you can either start the second one with me, right now, and we can cast all the fucking spells together, _or_ you can sit and _be scared_ . But, I know we can do this. I know we can actually help someone in the process. _Missing kids_ , Neil. You were a missing kid once, too.”

_We can cast all the fucking spells together._

Is this what near-death did to him? Brought out the poet? 

~~_Is he fucking joking?_ ~~

Even if he’s not, how was Neil supposed to say no? With his insides melting right there in Andrew’s office, and Andrew’s excitement after their second near-death experience in just over a month, beginning to swallow him whole and -

“I-,” Andrew just stared at him and Neil? Well, “Fine,” he nodded. “If it’ll make you stop talking about Harry Potter, fine. We can do it together, _but,_ ” he held up a finger. “No promises I’m not going to fuck this whole thing up.”

_Let’s cast all the spells together._

* * *

* * *

 

 **_Neil:_ **

_So, here’s something I want to talk about. The Kathy Ferdinand Show. How the fuck did someone convince Andrew_ **_fucking_ ** _Minyard, to ever go on?_

 **_Andrew:_ **

_Ah, my television debut. It was spectacular, wasn't it?_

**_Neil:_ **

_It was a spectacle, if that’s what you mean._

**_Andrew:_ **

_That’s exactly what I mean. In the simplest of terms, I was promised something in return for an interview. Something that I really, really wanted that dealt with the case, and something I would’ve never been able to arrange on my own._

**_Neil:_ **

_It was the interview, wasn’t it?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Those are industry secrets._

**_Neil:_ **

_Yes, then?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Anyway._

_So that show was the first time you saw my face. Describe your wonder, if you will._

**_Neil:_ **

_This is actually a funny story._

_[ laugh ]_

_So, I was with my... friend. I was staying with him in New York in attempt to hide from you and your minions. He had no fuckin’ clue who I was, or why I was so fucking twitchy all the time, but we were hanging out, eating breakfast, and he turned on the show. Me, I’m sitting there, trying not to have a fucking panic attack so I could actually listen to what’s happening - to you know... help keep tabs on you, when I see your fucking face._

**_Andrew:_ **

_And you heard angels sing?_

**_Neil:_ **

_I heard Satan laugh._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Close enough. That was when you recognized me?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah. And it was a fuckin’ punch to the stomach. I... saw you and I just... freaked the fuck out. My friend had no idea what my problem was. I literally went to my room, got in the shower, and just fucking laughed at how fucked it all was. I think it was just because I never forgot that day in the Grand Canyon and I never forgot you for one fucking second, but I never expected_ **_him_ ** _, to be_ **_you_ ** _._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_I almost wish I had come clean sooner about having met you. Just so you would have known._

**_Neil:_ **

_No. I - I understand why you didn’t. You didn’t want your credibility or reasoning for all this questioned. It would’ve been distracting. But, yeah. I would’ve made this whole thing a lot faster._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Live and learn, I guess._

* * *

* * *

 

Over a week after they’d posted the audio notes, the team was gathered in the lounge for a meeting once again . 

“So,” Andrew started, and everyone’s attention was clearly riveted. Seth had his feet on the coffee table, eyes half-lidded and a large iced coffee cradled between his hands. Dan was awake as ever, tapping her pen against the pad in her lap, and Renee - serene as ever - played with the cross around her neck. The only one who was missing, was Reynolds. But she was still in Miami, doing whatever Millionaire CEO’s do.

_Right._

“We met with the agent.” That’s all it took. Seth blinked several times and sat up straighter, Dan stopped tapping, and Renee tilted her head. “And signed some papers, and I guess I should officially, legally introduce you all to Neil Josten.” He looked over to Neil who was smiling sheepishly from the couch. 

All of a sudden, all exhaustion and restlessness was gone as the team cheered and congratulated him. He just nodded, looking terribly embarrassed. Andrew had to look away before he did something stupid in front of all these people. 

“We won’t go into detail about everything here, because honestly? The less you know, the better,” he continued. “But suffice it to say, we need to stay relevant. We need to keep the podcast going and stay in the public eye as much as possible. So,” he inhaled, “Neil and I have decided to keep Red Rabbits going.”

The confusion was expected. Brows raised and a _‘huh’_ came from someone. ~~**Probably Seth.** ~~

Renee spoke up first. “In what capacity?” she asked slowly and glanced towards Neil. “Neil has been found. He’s safe. You did what you set out to do.”

Andrew nodded and felt Neil shift next to him. “I did. But, Neil’s not the only missing child out there. We want to keep looking for more - see if we can help crack cold cases, maybe find more lines of corruption in the system.”

“And you’re going to do this _together_?” Seth asked, wagging his brows. 

Andrew rolled his eyes, but Neil was the one that answered for him. “Yes, Seth, we’re going to do it together. Like Harry Potter.”

Seth tucked in his chin and Dan furrowed her brows. “Like... what?”

“Nothing,” Andrew said, and it took all the strength he fucking had not to absolutely lose it. “The point is,” he pushed on, “this is what we’re doing. We’re going to start researching as soon as possible and put together a plan.”

“We still need to record the last episode,” Dan pointed out. “And soon. People are waiting.”

Andrew just nodded. He knew that. He also knew how he wanted the episode to go. “I’ll do a rough outline, but I don’t want to script everything.” He looked to Neil, “I want Neil to take the bulk of this.”

_Probably should’ve brought this up before -_

Neil’s head whipped around to face him. “What? Why me?!”

Andrew twisted fully to face him. “Because this is _your_ story. I want you to be the one to tell it, in your own words. I want you to include what _you_ think is important and leave out anything you want to keep close to your chest. It’s not like I won’t be there,” he shook his head. “I’ll be talking too... But, I want you to explain what you need to, or want to, without the constraints of a script.”

Neil leveled him with a long stare. Andrew saw every thought he had pass behind his eyes from ‘ _why?’,_ to ‘ _I don’t know what to say',_ and maybe even _‘I’m scared’._ He knew that and he hated it. He knew it was scary and that this felt sudden. But Andrew had taken _his_ story, and unknowingly turned it into a media circus - into a global ‘sensation’, if you will. It wasn’t originally his business and he _knew_ that it was a lot to ask of Neil. But he wouldn’t be bringing it up if he didn’t think it was for the best and,

“Fine,” Neil agreed. His eyes stayed on Andrew. “But, I at least want to outline it. Figure out what to say and where.”

Andrew nodded. He’d do whatever Neil wanted. But for the podcast, it was time. 

_I’ve been telling his story for long enough._

“Perfect,” Dan said, looking down at her pad and scribbling something down, before picking up her phone and typing away. “When do you think you’ll be ready to record?”

“Give us a week,” Andrew replied, looking to her. He didn’t really know how long it would take, but he wanted Neil to have plenty of time - of room. “We’ll keep answering asks in the meantime.”

Dan nodded. “Fine. Just let us know when you’re ready.”

* * *

* * *

**_  
Andrew:_ **

_Moving on._

_[ sigh ]_

_After the show, I was set to do an interview with Nathan. Everyone knows by now that while I was there, he was killed and so was my interview. I don’t want to get into the how’s and why’s of what happened._ **_We_ ** _know what happened and sharing would only complicate things, like most of the shit in this case._ **_But,_ ** _is this something you’re okay talking about? What happened when you heard?_

 **_Neil:_ **

_[pause]_

_All I’ll say, is that I was not surprised and I was not sad. I_ **_did_ ** _have a panic attack and that’s when I told my friend_ **_,_ ** _who I was._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_Your roommate, correct?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah. There was no point in hiding it, by that point. He knew something was up and he knew it had to do with the podcast. I just got the inevitable over with._

**_Andrew:_ **

_How did he respond?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Like any good friend would, I suppose. He told me it was okay, and that he didn’t care, and that he wanted to help. Which, started his hatred of you, you know. He went from following the podcast religiously to despising you with a passion._

**_Andrew:_ **

_I do seem to evoke those feelings in a lot of people... I’m glad, though, that you had a friend to lean on while I was making your life miserable._

**_Neil:_ **

_Me too._

* * *

* * *

 

Neil and Andrew didn’t come into the studio the next day, which was Friday. 

They called it a ‘Work from Home Day’, which was really just an excuse to lie around and be lazy for 3 days instead of 2. 

They woke up late, drank coffee on the balcony, read books, watched netflix, played with the cats, and learned more and more of what made each other come undone. 

It was nothing really different from what they’d been doing. Only this time, things felt more... settled, more natural. Things had been taken care of and although the threat wasn’t completely neutralized, it was as good as it was going to get. Now, they could at least breathe a little easier and start doing _normal_ things. 

Like Saturday night, they had dinner at Bee’s - just them. Everyone else had already gone home, so they’d brought Sir and King over to do what cats do. It was _nice_. Quieter this time, and Neil got a chance to know Bee a bit better. 

By nurture, he was wary of mental health professionals. It’d been so ingrained in him to never let anyone in, to never make yourself vulnerable, that he found himself avoiding them like the fucking plague **or the mafia**. When he was in high school, it was more than a few times that he’d been called to the guidance counselors office to answer questions about what his parents did and whether they were interested in his studies and extracurriculars or not. Of course he lied through his teeth to get out of all of them, but even before that he’d been extra cautious to not raise any red flags to keep them as uninvolved as possible. 

But even beyond that, beyond getting caught, it was perhaps the fact that talking to someone about your deepest, darkest, most fucked up secrets, didn’t sound like the most fucking appealing thing in the world. 

However, he had to admit to himself, he’d been doing that with Andrew. He’d been letting Andrew in and allowing him to see the slimy, broken bits of his soul... Been doing that since they met, really. 

 _Maybe that’s why I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else_. 

Anyway. 

Regardless if he worried that everything coming out of his mouth would be psychoanalyzed, he was grateful to her for everything he knew she’d done for Andrew, and for helping them in the hospital. Perhaps he would’ve done well to have a Bee growing up. 

~~_Too late for that._ ~~

Anyway, anyway. 

As it was, Sunday night rolled around and Andrew and Neil found themselves lying on the couch again - Andrew between Neil’s legs and his head resting on Neil’s stomach. They were watching reruns of The Office and Neil was idly running his fingers through Andrew’s hair. 

Andrew sighed and Neil looked down at him. He was sleepy. Neil was about to tell him to go to bed before he fell asleep, but Andrew spoke before he could.

“We were supposed to start on the last episode this weekend.

Neil shrugged. “You told Dan to give us a week. We have plenty of time.”

“Thank you for enabling my laziness.”

Neil smiled and curled a longer piece of hair around his finger, “Always.”

Andrew propped a chin on his hand and looked up at him. Neil knew what was going to come out of his mouth before it did. “I’ve found a few cases I think we could investigate. I can show you-“

“Not now,” Neil murmured, shaking his head. Of course they’d have to talk about it _eventually_ . Just... right now things were so calm. Things were so _good_. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do another podcast. In fact, he thought being able to possibly help another kid would be amazing. But, “I’m tired, Andrew,” he explained. “We’ve been fighting and running for so long and this? Right here...? It’s nice. I just need a little time.”

Andrew studied him and lifted his head off Neil’s stomach with a long inhale. Eventually, he nodded and murmured, “Okay. We can take a break. Just not for too long. We need to-” 

Neil gently tugged at the piece, then let go and waved a hand as he placed the other on the back of his head. “Stay relevant, I know. I haven’t forgotten. But,” he sunk down further in the couch, “Let’s _breathe._ Let’s go somewhere.”

Andrew raised a brow. “Go somewhere? Like where?”

“How should I know?” his eyes squinted. “Let’s just get out of town. Take a _real_ vacation. Remember when we were kids and I thought how lucky you were because you were there with your family on vacation? But really, you were just as fucking miserable, if not more, than me? Well,” he tilted his head, “Let’s take a _real_ vacation together.”

“Okay,” Andrew agreed faster than he’d expected. “Tell me where and I’ll take you there.”

~~_I’ll take you there._ ~~

Neil smiled a bit more, but this time it felt like it should be kept secret. It was a smile to the feelings inside and he bit down into his lip to almost keep it hidden. He couldn’t... because how had he gotten here, to this place, with this man?

“You like me so fucking much,” Neil teased. “It must be so hard, being you.”

Andrew’s eyes flashed then. Something playful and _warm_. “You have no idea,” he mumbled, then looked down to Neil’s shirt and slipped a hand underneath. He pushed it up just enough to get at skin, and placed a kiss on Neil’s hip. “To live every day, knowing that this is fucking it, and you don’t even fucking like ice cream...”

Neil stilled his hands. 

_This is fucking it._

He’d known it, of course. In the weeks since they’d been in this apartment - no. _Before_ that. Before the hospital, Lola, the rooftop in New York where they’d linked pinkies and -

Andrew continued his ministrations and Neil bit his lip again, watching his blonde head moving slowly across his abdomen and feeling his lips, soft and warm, against his skin. Eventually, Andrew reached the waistband on the loose pajama pants he was wearing and looked up at Neil. Gold, honey, ~~_home_ . ~~

Neil knew what he was asking. They’d done a lot of exploring, but much of it so far, had been tentative and about learning boundaries, and so, _so good._ But this...? They hadn’t done this yet... 

Neil nodded and it didn’t take much. His pants were shifted and his hands plunged themselves into soft blond hair, and at the first feel of Andrew’s warm mouth, his toes were curling. 

This... this was the moment where his heart would give out - surely. He thought the time Andrew had taken them both in hand would be it. It was so close and so _intimate_ , and Neil could do nothing at the time, but hold on and feel every feeling raw and fresh and startling as they came over him. 

But this?

_This is something else entirely._

It didn’t take long. Neil cried out with Andrew’s name on his lips and his hands in his hair, and pulled him up into a kiss before he could have any sort of worry, or care for the taste coating Andrew’s tongue. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against Andrew’s mouth. Because he’d never touched and been touched, and felt those feelings and lost himself to them. It wasn’t just about _sex_. It was amazing, of course, and he was almost glad for the fact that he swung for one, and one only, because he couldn’t imagine this with anyone else, he couldn’t imagine _giving_ and _getting_ and _caring_ and _wanting_ and -

No. This was something _else_ . This was a whole lot of... _something_ that rose above planes of physical and emotional. It was - 

Andrew didn’t respond, just kissed Neil one more time, before laying on top of him again to rest his face in his neck. 

Eventually, Andrew inhaled a deep breath and whispered, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

* * *

 

 **_Andrew:_ **

_We went to the West Coast after that mess._

_To be honest, I was pissed and I needed something solid to make up for what we missed. So, we met with a few people out there and shared some of those notes - not all of them, but some. We’d heard about the shooting with Nathan and we eventually heard about the shooting with Lola Malcolm. By the time we got to Oregon, I’d started getting mysterious text messages from a very smart mouthed mystery person._

**_Neil:_ **

_Sounds like a smart guy._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Eh. Not really, no. So, Going back to when we met in Arizona, are you comfortable talking about what you showed me there?_

**_Neil:_ **

_What I…oh. You mean the scar?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Yes._

**_Neil:_ **

_I guess since we’re talking about Seattle... [ breath ] That was when Nathan caught up to us. We were ratted out by someone my mother trusted. She went to see someone for papers or money or something… I don’t know - like I said, she tried to keep me hidden from people. Anyway, he ended up contacting Nathan’s people._ **_I_ ** _ended up getting shot in the shoulder, which I showed you when we were kids…street cred, I guess._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Well, let’s preface - it was in response to my own scars. But yeah, I thought you were really bad ass. Which... Kids are so fucking stupid. If a 12-year-old showed me the spot where their father had shot them today, it’d be nothing but horror. But at 13? I thought you must be like... indestructible or something._

**_Neil:_ **

_I definitely was not._

* * *

* * *

 

“How far did you two get with the script?”

Andrew looked at Neil, and at least he had the decency to look embarrassed. 

Andrew didn’t. 

Dan looked between them, then rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You didn’t do shit this weekend, did you?”

“Oh, now that’s not true,” Andrew said defensively. “We did lots of shit this weekend. Just…none of it happened to be writing the script.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Seth hummed, appearing like some deity called when innuendo was needed. “I’m sure y’all got up to all sorts of shit this weekend.”

Andrew shot his eyes to him. “Seth, what is it? You going through a dry spell right now? Do you have some sort of repressed crush on me, so you like to imagine what we get up to?”

Seth’s grin didn’t falter - it only grew. He shrugged, “I do alright,” then pulled back his chin, “and what makes you think I’d have a crush on _you?”_ His eyes flicked to Neil. “I gotta admit, I do love a ginger.”

Neil snorted, but Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, Gordon.”

Seth held up his hands, “Ooooh ho, a little territorial? Don’t worry, if Neil ever looks my way -”

“Stop,” Dan said, standing from her desk. Neil and Andrew lounged in the two chairs facing hers and Seth leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, still grinning and playful. “Both of you,” Dan continued. “Stop and listen. I get that you guys are still catching your breath and figuring shit out. Fine. But,” she pointed a thumb at her computer, “We have to get this up. We’ve already been so fucking delayed with everything, that we can’t wait any longer. I want this done and up by the end of the week.”

“We’ll start today,” Neil said, nodding. “And we’ll get it done this week.”

“Thank you, Neil, for being the only sensible person in this office.” She walked around to the front of her desk to lean against it. 

“Kiss ass,” Andrew muttered. 

Neil flipped him off without looking. 

“So,” Dan continued. “Since you’ve told us what your plans are, and now that everyone has legal ID’s.” She looked pointedly at Neil and kept her eyes there. “Neil, it’s time to make you officially part of the team. That means we’re going to get you on payroll, set up your office, and put you on the team page.”

Neil opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was stunned into silence and Andrew didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. 

Neil flicked him off again, but his expression didn’t change. 

“Are... I mean,” he stuttered and blinked a few times, “Are you serious...? An _office_ ? But... _why?_ ”

Dan leaned a bit forward and raised both brows, “Are you two not going to be investigating more cases? Fielding questions and researching?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Neil nodded numbly. “Okay, then you need an office.”

Neil’s mouth moved again, but still nothing came out. Dan took that as her leave to walk back behind her desk and gesture towards Seth. 

“Seth’s here to take your picture for the team page. We need to set up a profile for you.” She sat back down. 

Andrew looked over his shoulder at Seth, who just grinned around the straw he was sipping from. 

“Do I have to...?” Neil whimpered, like a child. “I _hate_ pictures.”

“Yes,” Dan replied, eyes already on her computer. “Go. Now. I have things to do.”

Neil rolled his neck, then groaned mumbling, “Tell Matt I said hi,” on his way out. 

“Right this way,” Seth said, sweeping an arm in front of him in the direction of the soundbooth. Neil groaned again and dragged his feet to the room, Andrew trailing behind. 

Behind the soundproofed glass, were the black walls of the booth. But, on the far wall was a roll pulled down just of clean, black velvet. All the chairs and mic-set had been pushed to the side to give room. There was a stool in the corner and a white ‘x’ taped to the floor for Neil to stand. This room was the darkest in TFN and had the best lighting, so they’d all taken their pictures here. 

Seth disappeared for a minute, Andrew assumed to grab his camera. 

“You good?” he asked. Neil shook his head. “Then say no. What are they doing to do?”

Neil huffed a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean, no it’s _fine_ . I’m _good_. It’s just,” he shrugged. “It’s fucking weird to be putting myself out there so much after staying shut away for so long.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. 

Andrew grabbed the stool from the corner, pulled it to the ‘x’ and patted the top. Once Neil was sitting, he fixed the curls Neil had anxiously thrown out of place. 

“You don’t have to hide anymore,” Andrew eventually murmured. 

Neil looked up at him, “I know.”

With a little nod, Andrew pulled one of Neil’s black armbands down a fraction, until,

“Y’all are so fuckin’ cute. Break this shit up so we can get this done.”

Andrew stepped back to let Neil deal with Seth. 

Instead of standing, Neil opted to stay sitting. He said it was purely so he didn’t have to pick poses and sitting was just easier. Andrew concurred. ~~_And it makes you look taller._ ~~

Neil tolerated the pictures for about five minutes, before he stood up. “I’m done. Just pick one. It doesn’t matter.”

Seth shrugged, too busy looking through the shots. Just as Andrew opened the door for Neil to walk through, Seth asked, “What about Sir?”

“Sir?” Neil looked to Andrew and Andrew just shrugged. 

Finally, Seth lifted his head, “King has her own page. Sir’s part of the team now, too! Fair is fair.”

Neil rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue as he left to go get her, and came back with her clutched in his arms. 

“Okay,” Seth moved the stool out of the way and pointed to the white ‘x’. “Put her there.”

He waited as Neil set her down. Rather than move around, Sir just looked up at them, then promptly ignored whatever they were doing to lick at her paw. 

“Yaaaasss,” Seth said, getting down low to get a good straight-shot of her. “You chonky queen, look at her pose.”

Andrew had to agree. She had talent. With the utter ease and complete air of _don’t-give-a-fuck_. It was impressive. 

Neil, however, wasn’t. “Hey!” he said quickly. “She’s not... chonky. She’s just...” he gestured towards her, “Filled out. She’s a healthy weight...”

Seth stopped snapping pictures to look up at him. “Mmmm, sure. Whatever you say, man.”

Neil grabbed Sir from the floor and marched out of the room with her. 

Andrew shook his head. “Never insult a man’s cat, Seth. So rude.”

* * *

* * *

**_  
Andrew:_ **

_So in Seattle, Nathan caught up to you and you ended up getting shot. How did you and your mother get medical help? Did you go to the hospital or was that too risky?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Way too risky, especially for gunshot wounds. We just… took care of it. Mum always had an emergency stash of liquor and I learned really early how to stitch a wound. As long as I have a bottle of vodka and some dental floss, I can stitch up anything._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[ sarcasm]_

_The accolades._

_Right. You were ten years old when that happened. So you just downed some booze and grit your teeth?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Hah._

_Basically. Once I puked up the booze and had a nap._

_[ shrug ]_

_I was mostly fine._

**_Andrew:_ **

_I can’t… you don’t even realize how fucked up this all sounds._

**_Neil:_ **

_I mean, I know it sounds fucked up to_ **_you_ ** _. But, to me? It was just my life. Our only goal was staying alive._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_Well, you did that at least._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Moving on from Seattle, we went down to Oregon where we talked to some people in law enforcement. That’s where the gun fight with Lola happened. How old were you?_

**_Neil:_ **

_16._ _I still don’t know how she caught up to us there._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_You spoke about it briefly in the Audio Notes, but this is where Lola shot your mother. Is that right?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah, and I’m not going to get into detail with this. But, Lola shot my mother. We made it as far as the California coast before she died and I had to leave her there. I’ve been on my own ever since._

* * *

* * *

 

Andrew and Neil spent the rest of the week attempting to outline the podcast and honestly? It was harder than either of them thought it would be. Part of the reason was just because Neil was having a hard time with how much to _actually_ say. He obviously couldn’t talk about anything that would implicate the Moriyamas, so he tried focusing on what he and his mother went through. However, because of the nature of you know. _Him and his mother._ Some of the shit just felt too personal. 

So, in between trying to figure out what to say and how to say it, getting frustrated and gauging what _not_ to say, and Andrew remaining painfully patient with Neil during the process, they talked about where to disappear to after it was all over. 

“Not the beach,” Neil said while discussing the possibilities one night. They’d gone out to dinner and were currently sitting outside on the balcony, Andrew with a takeout box in hand of a piece of half-eaten chocolate cake, and Neil staring up at the dark sky. 

Andrew snorted between bites, “Did you honestly think I’d suggest it? What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

Neil shrugged, feet thrown up on the railing and body slumped in his chair. “The normal kind, I guess. I don’t know, just putting it out there...” His eyes tried finding the big dipper, but the sky was cloudy and dark splotches crawled across the moon. Andrew shifted beside him and when he turned his head, it was to see him licking chocolate frosting off his thumb. He didn’t look away, or really feel the need to. It was nice. He didn’t even mind when Andrew caught him looking and raised a brow. Neil just smiled. 

“Somewhere in the US,” he continued quietly, still watching. 

Andrew put the cake down on the small table between their chairs. “Unless we get Reynolds to fund this jaunt, I don’t think that was an option anyway.”

Neil hummed, “Something touristy, then? Orlando or LA or something?”

Andrew shook his head, “I don’t want to be around a lot of people.”

Neil sighed and continued his vigil at the clouds, trying to decipher them against the black sky. “Me neither.”

“Then why’d you suggest it?”

Neil shrugged again. “I don’t know. Just trying to throw things out there.”

Andrew was quiet for a moment, so Neil stayed quiet, too. He liked these kinds of moments - where there was nothing between them but quiet, and dark, and for some reason, the space felt so _full_ every time. 

Neil closed his eyes and breathed in the contentment. 

“How about the mountains?” Andrew eventually asked. 

Neil thought about it.

_I’d never really been to the mountains. Through them, with mum, sure, but we were always moving and I couldn’t stop and enjoy them-_

“Okay,” Neil agreed, opening his eyes. “The mountains. Which?”

Andrew had picked the cake back up and was eating through it slowly again. ~~_Probably to have something to do with his hands._ ~~

“Let’s go west. Get away from the east coast and all the bullshit. Colorado maybe...”

Neil nodded, “Colorado sounds good.”

* * *

* * *

 

**_Andrew:_ **

_And you ended up back in Arizona, which we knew, because of the tip off from Ashleigh Miller._

**_Neil:_ **

_Ah, yes. Ashleigh Miller..._

_I wandered for a little bit before making my way back, though. Enrolled in my senior year of high school, but lied about my age - I told them I was eighteen, so I wouldn’t have to worry about parent permission for anything._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Why enroll in school, at all? Isn’t that as risky as a hospital? And you played exy while you were there, right? Isn’t that even more exposure?_

**_Neil:_ **

_[ groan ]_

_Okay. Listen. I’ve never claimed to be particularly smart. I just wanted something to do, honestly. To be around kids my own age, to play exy. It was probably stupid, yeah. But, it didn’t get me caught. Then, after I graduated, I stayed in Arizona._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Why this obsession with Arizona? Did something… I don’t know… completely life changing, happen there?_

**_Neil:_ **

_[laughs]_

_Wow, you’re so transparent._

_Honestly?_ **_You_ ** _made an impact on me. That moment with us in that tiny snack shack, was the only time I felt seen or understood. So, yeah. I went back._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[clears throat]_

_Right... um, so, by the time Renee and I got to Arizona, I suspected you were the smart mouth texting me. By this time, I was in a panic, to be completely transparent here. I knew one of you were dead, but I didn’t know which. At that point, I’d manifested this entire ball of guilt inside of me because I’d made this promise to you and now, someone was dead. I thought I was too late. Renee was the only thing keeping me together, but it wasn’t until I started getting those texts from you that I began to actually believe I could help again._

**_Neil:_ **

_You’re ridiculous, you know that?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Completely._

_We talked to Ashleigh and I learned that you were still alive - learned it must’ve been your mother that died in California. That was where I found the postcard-_

**_Neil:_ **

_I’m sorry, where did you find that postcard? Were you just going to gloss over that part?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_I was going to try, yeah._

**_Neil:_ **

_Nope. Tell the people, Andrew. It’s only fair._

**_Andrew:_ **

_You’re lucky I like you._

**_Neil:_ **

_Ain’t I, though?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_[ sigh ]_

_I broke into your apartment. I wanted to see if I could find any clue of where you may have gone. I_ **_didn’t_ ** _, of course. Halfway through, I realized the boundary I had crossed, and I felt sick. I was about to get the hell out of there when I saw the postcard on the fridge - which, yes. We posted the_ **_front_ ** _on the website, but not the_ **_back_ ** _._

_Why?_

_Because my own handwriting was there._

_My name, Andrew Doe, and my contact information from back then. You’d held on to it for so long. Even though you knew it was all out of date. Why?_

**_Neil:_ **

**_You’re_ ** _lucky_ **_I_ ** _like_ **_you_ ** _._

_[ pause [_

_Really, I don’t have a reasonable explanation. It was just a piece of my past I didn’t want to forget. This..._ **_kid,_ ** _who was dealing with adults who were supposed to be protecting and caring for him but weren’t, who was still a smart mouthed little punk, that didn’t shy away or cower. I wanted to be like that._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_I remember you dropping a foul word or two yourself, you know. I don’t know why you act like I was spitting the F word every sentence._

**_Neil:_ **

**_I_ ** _remember that being the case, yes._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_[ hum ]_

_Your memory is failing you. Mine is perfect._

* * *

* * *

 

Monday, they found themselves back in the studio and ready to attempt recording. They’d gotten the basic outline for what they wanted the episode to look like, done. So it should be relatively smooth sailing. 

While heading to the booth, Dan stopped them both. 

“I’ll be out of town for a while. I won't be back until the weekend, so try to get the recording done and keep me posted.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “ _You’re_ going out of town? Before the last episode drops? You never take a vacation-” he dipped his chin and leveled her with a faux serious look. “You in some sort of legal trouble, captain? Because I’ve got this FBI guy on speed dial-”

“Hah,” Dan said sarcastically. “Ha, hah. No, smartass.” She rolled her eyes. “Matt’s birthday is this week and I’m going to surprise him is all.” The smile she had on her lips twitched and Andrew knew she was trying real fucking hard to stifle it. 

Neil huffed. “You’re going to the finals, aren't you!? That’s not fucking fair! I want to go to the finals!” His fists were balled and Andrew was suddenly reminded of Bella when Katelyn wouldn’t let her keep the frog she caught in Bee’s backyard. 

~~It was kind of adorable.~~

“Yeah?” Andrew asked nonetheless, turning to face him. “You want to go back to that stadium, where the Moriyamas hang out and the entire staff you used to work with probably knows who you really are by now?”

Neil pouted and Andrew had to remind himself Dan was still standing there, staring at them. But the need to bite that bottom lip...

“He doesn’t know I’m coming yet,” Dan interjected, “But trust me, he’ll be crushed you’re not with me.” She rolled her eyes this time and hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder. “Besides,” she shrugged, “You have a podcast to record.” She made to walk by them and headed to the doors of the office. “Don’t call me unless someone is dead!” She waved a hand over her shoulder and continued out.

Andrew and Neil looked at each other. “You’re really jealous, huh?”

Neil shrugged and sighed, “No. It’d just be cool to go to the game, that’s all.”

Andrew hummed and grabbed a hold of Neil’s collar, pulling him down a bit. “You know, we’re supposed to leave for Colorado this weekend. But,” He looked over his face, to that bottom lip and found he couldn’t look away, “I’ll take you to New York if you’d rather be there with Lloyd and Wilds and stupid fucking stickball.”

Neil stayed that way for a moment, Andrew’s hands in his collar and their faces close, before answering. “Don’t be stupid,” he finally said, voice quiet ~~, _intimate_~~ “Think of all the things we can get up to in a secluded mountain cabin.” He leaned the rest of the way until their lips met, but Andrew couldn’t let it last for more than _three_ seconds. He shoved him away, before it could become more than just a kiss - like it always did with Neil. 

“Come on,” he mumbled, lips vibrating, “I told Seth we’d start recording today.”

Neil only smirked that infuriating smirk and followed Andrew to the sound booth.

-

All the furniture was back in their places in the booth, but with the addition of a table in the middle. Neil and Andrew sat across from each other, two mics docked to the side and headphones on. They both had copies of the outline in front of them, and Andrew found that he was actually nervous for this episode. He’d never been nervous, not even when he was interviewing strangers or telling the listeners about his past. But for some reason, being here, in this space with Neil, hit him like a wave all over again... Like it did sometimes when he realized the position he was in with Red Rabbits. 

Honestly, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario in a million years. He couldn’t have... Because Andrew very rarely had things go the way they were supposed to in his life, and he’d learned a long time ago, that wanting things would only lead to disappointment. So, as often as he could, he just _wanted nothing._

~~_This isn’t nothing_ .  ~~

No, this venture had been different. He’d _wanted_ to find Alex from the very beginning. He’d _wanted_ a face to face with him. He _wanted_ to keep his promise - to help him, make sure he was safe, 

_Alive._

He’d done that, he supposed, in a very roundabout way. 

But

To actually have him here... to have him in his home, and in his bed, between his hands, against his chest, head to head, and fingertips - even if they weren’t touching -

He could still feel him there. In his fingertips. 

Even with Neil sitting across the table, in a different _fucking_ chair. 

Andrew realized it before now, of course. Still, at least once a day, he thought to himself that if this _thing_ , this _whatever_ , this _something_ , between them were to end, he’d be royally fucked. 

Anyway.

They watched for Seth’s thumbs up, and when the light blinked on and indicated that they were recording, Andrew leaned closer to his mic and looked Neil straight in the eyes. 

This was it, this was the last intro he could do for this series of Red Rabbits. 

_Wow._

“This is Andrew Minyard, your host of the Red Rabbits Podcast. Welcome to the 5th and final episode. Before we go any further, I’d like to welcome my interviewee, Neil Josten.”

Neil smiled at him and with only a little hesitation, leaned towards his own mic.

And that’s how it went. It was a natural back and forth, and Andrew was glad he’d been able to convince Neil to stay on. 

He made this feel _easy._

* * *

* * *

 

 **_Andrew:_ **

_So, we finally spoke, and you were so kind as to invite me to New York where you were staying, to talk._

**_Neil:_ **

_I invited you to New York, where I was staying, to tell you to fuck off._

**_Andrew:_ **

_You really did, didn’t you?_

_[ light laugh ]_

_I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what I got. What was going through your mind when you knew I was coming? Were you just practicing all the expletives you would use when you finally saw me?_

**_Neil:_ **

_Oh, for sure. I mean, I was just mostly confused? I’d never forgotten that afternoon at the Grand Canyon. Ever. And I did_ ** _want_** _to see you. But, I didn’t understand why you were doing this... How you couldn’t see how damaging it would be for me, to have to hear all these things you were releasing on the episodes. I was mad at_ ** _myself_** _for even bringing you to where I was, but I think a part of me was also just... desperate to see you in person._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_I wanted to see you, too. And..._

_[ deep breath ]_

_Just so listeners know, because we’ve gotten some asks about how Neil can just be fine with all of this, he wasn’t. He laid into me like no one in my life ever had before. I realize how stupid it is now, but I was stunned. I didn’t even know what to think. I’d built this journey up in my mind, as me going on this crusade to help, and now I was just standing there, in front of you, learning I was hurting you more than anything. I’ve apologized more than once, but I’ll always feel like shit about it, I think._

**_Neil:_ **

_I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the scathing dressing down I gave you. I actually thought it was really well executed._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Oh, it was. My favorite part was [ sarcasm ] ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Sir.’_

**_Neil:_ **

_Ahhh, good memories, huh? Yeah... I may have went overboard, I don’t know. I didn’t really feel any better, after. Just incredibly tired._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Well. It takes more than that to scare me off._

_I hung around. Don’t know why. I knew you probably didn’t want me there, but I just... I felt like I was giving up on you if I left. Turns out, it was worth it. We had an... interesting? run in with a donut cart and a very civil conversation immediately following, where we were asked to leave the general vicinity of the cart._

**_Neil:_ **

_You took my donuts._

**_Andrew:_ **

_You don’t even like donuts._

**_Neil:_ **

_That’s not the point._

**_Andrew:_ **

_That’s_ **_exactly_ ** _the point._

 _Anyway, that was kind of a turning point, I think. We sat, and talked, and you let me apologize, and I stayed. So, listeners were wondering where I was and Dan was going feral at the fact that I had nothing to offer in the way of Audio Notes or Episodes, but I_ **_stayed_ ** _. I couldn’t tell them where I was and expose you anymore than I already had. In that time, we talked, we hung out, you forgave me because honestly. How could you not?_

 **_Neil:_ **

_[ hum ]_

_Hm, yes. How indeed. Really, I knew you’d done everything you did with good intentions. And I know you hate it when I start talking about you in a nice way, but that connection we had as kids never left. Even as adults I just think there’s that_ **_something_ ** _that pulls us. It was hard not to just give in, the longer you were there._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_And I was there for a few weeks, but eventually, then we had to leave when it became apparent that someone knew where you were and that you were in pretty serious danger._

**_Neil:_ **

_We_ **_both_ ** _were. Lola was one of Nathan’s inner circle. She was insane and well trained. Bad combination._

* * *

* * *

 

They didn’t finish recording that day. 

Or the next. 

Part of the problem was that they’d been talking about one thing, and end up on something completely off topic, or one of them would make an inappropriate joke that Andrew would make Seth edit out. 

It took longer than Neil expected it would, but it wasn’t as bad as he feared. No, he was sure he’d get there and completely freeze up - not sure on how much to reveal. But, it wasn’t like that? He knew, logically, it had a lot to do with the fact that Andrew was there, leading them through. It almost felt like having a conversation with him, and that had always been easy. 

In between recordings and scattered throughout the days, Neil continued to answer asks on the website - much to Andrew’s dismay. The problem, he realized, was that while Andrew was a very private person, Neil had never had the opportunity to either speak or stay quiet about a... relationship. He never outright said, ‘Andrew and I are **in** a relationship’, but the context clues were all there, and between him and Seth, the listeners didn’t have a hard time figuring it out. 

“You just told everyone we sleep in the same bed,” Andrew said one day, laptop open and furrow in his brow. 

Neil just stared at him. “We _do_ sleep in the same bed?”

Andrew sighed and mumbled, “Yeah, but _they_ don’t know that...” Then looked back to the computer and suddenly, Neil felt the heavy weight of guilt settle in his stomach. 

_Did I say something stupid?_

Automatically, he moved from his spot on the couch, to sit beside Andrew on the other end. They were shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and Neil nudged him. 

“Did I say something stupid...?” he asked aloud, quietly. Then, “I’m an idiot, remember? You have to help me out here,” Neil’s shoulders slumped and for a moment, he felt deflated. ~~_What if I fucked up?_ ~~ _No._ “I’m trying not to shout this from the rooftop,” he explained. “But I also didn’t know we were keeping it a secret...?”

“We’re not,” Andrew sighed again and wet his lips. “I mean, it’s not like Seth hasn’t dropped enough hints anyway.” He looked to Neil. “I don’t fucking know what I’m doing here,” he admitted. “It feels like hiding to deny it, but it also feels like we’re screaming it, when you post shit like this.”

Neil shifted his body down so he could lay his head on Andrew’s shoulder, looking at the laptop in front of him and the website inbox’s anons. 

“I’m sorry,” Neil murmured. “I’ll stop mentioning anything about it, if you want. I guess I’m just glad to have you.” He looked down at the scars still red on his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here either. Should I stop mentioning you altogether?”

When he looked up, Andrew was chewing on his lip ring, and Neil watched his mouth move over it again and again and again. 

“No,” he finally said. “I don’t want that. Everyone knows... No one cares, and those that do can go fuck themselves.”

“Okay,” Neil said, and he moved his head just enough so he could kiss Andrew on the neck. 

He didn’t want to have to check himself against everything he said... He liked Andrew. A lot. If something came up about them and he had an answer, he would answer it honestly, because?

Because he’d been hiding his entire fucking life. Even when he was a small child, crouched in a closet and scrawling _don’t be bad_ on a wall as reminder to do better than himself, because that little boy didn’t think he was good enough for his father. He’d been hiding then, too. 

He was done.

He breathed Andrew in and kissed his neck again, a little open-mouthed this time, and couldn’t help but grin when he felt Andrew start to squirm. 

“You’re neck fetish,” Andrew breathed, “Is fucking disgusting.” Then, “Don’t ever stop.”

Neil laughed against his skin and placed one more kiss there, before pulling back. “Never.”

* * *

* * *

 

**_Andrew:_ **

_Right. So, we fled New York and took the most ass backwards route we could to South Carolina. Still, we never lost them._

**_Neil:_ **

_I wish I knew how she did it. We wouldn’t see her for an entire day, and all of a sudden she’d pop up in another state, right behind us._

**_Andrew:_ **

_We ran as quickly as we could. Lola had given us a countdown, which we assumed were the days we had until she made her move to kill us._

_We made it to South Carolina before day 0, but she finally caught up that night._

_Now, We said this when we released the Audio Notes, but I’ll say it again here, for anyone who may have missed it._

_What happened with Lola was graphic, and traumatic, and the only way we survived it, was together. We’re not at liberty to speak about the details, anyway. It ended with Lola dead, and her brother Romero in police custody. We both sustained serious injuries, including permanent scarring. It’s something, I’m sure we’ll have nightmares about for a long time, but it brings us to the end of this chapter, I think._

**_Neil:_ **

_It does, I suppose. We’re relatively safe. I’m legally Neil Josten, and we’re here together._

**_Andrew:_ **

_It’s really the best outcome, all things considered. Safe and together._

* * *

* * *

 

They finished recording on Friday. Seth edited everything together for approval. 

They were done. 

And yet,

Andrew still found himself sitting on the couch in the lounge, a TV moved in from somewhere, with the pro Exy Finals between the New York Lynxes and the Washington Bears, playing in front of them. 

He was so fucking bored. 

Neil had talked to Lloyd regularly since he left. He’d been too busy with promotional shit and training to come to Palmetto again (which was why, he assumed, Dan had abdicated to New York), but they’d kept up a steady texting and phone routine. 

Andrew may have his opinions on the guy - namely that he was just a giant, infant puppy, but he could admit that he was glad Neil had such a good friend. Hell, Lloyd checked in on him, sent memorabilia, and even paid the hospital bills Neil had incurred after the Lola encounter, since he had no health insurance. 

Lloyd was good for Neil and that’s all Andrew needed, really. 

Speaking of, he looked over at his... Neil, and rolled his eyes. He and Kevin were sitting next to each other and talking animatedly about whatever was happening in the game. They both wore jerseys with BOYD on the back, and their hands were moving in front of them wildly as they talked. Neil was busy illustrating a goal made by one of the strikers ~~maybe~~ , swooping and turning and Andrew realized he would never understand why he had such a deep fucking obsession with this game, but he didn’t mind watching Neil get excited over it. Not that Neil ever needed to know that. 

As if he could feel Andrew’s stare, Neil looked over and caught his eye. Abruptly he stood, leaving Kevin in the middle of explaining something about whatever the fuck exy fanatics fucking explain, then walked over to Andrew. 

“Hey!” Seth called to him from his spot on the other side of Kevin. “Why the fuck does the back of your jersey have paper stuck to it saying, ‘Lloyd’?”

Neil stopped to glare at Andrew, then reached over his shoulder. It took several tries, before he ripped the paper off and looked at it. 

“You think you’re so fucking funny,” he said, approaching Andrew slower this time. 

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t, really. I _know_ I’m so fucking funny.”

Neil charged the last few steps and stuck the paper to Andrew’s forehead. He grabbed Andrew’s hands when he tried to rip it off and kissed Andrew on the head, before he could remove it.

Seth and Renee laughed, but Kevin just sighed. “We were in the middle of an important conversation, you know.”

Neil let go of Andrew, taking the paper with him, then balled it up and threw it in Kevin’s direction. 

From there, the rest of the game went by incredibly slow, with Andrew reading Dark Age by Pierce Brown, and everyone else glued to the TV. When the winning goal was scored and secured the Lynxes victory, Neil actually jumped to his feet, pumping his fists in the air and yelling. 

~~_This is exhausting._ ~~

“Oh my god!” Seth yelled. “Holy shit! Look!” 

The camera caught Lloyd at the very end in the middle of a celebratory pile-up with his teammates, when he’d pointed his stick up towards the VIP boxes. When the camera panned up, there stood one Danielle Wilds, jumping and clapping like a maniac, and only stopping long enough to blow kisses in the direction of the court. 

“Well, this is going to be all over the news in an hour,” Kevin said, throwing his hands up. “Everyone will be talking about _this_ instead of the amazing fucking game he just played, but whatever, I guess.” He sighed and stood, stretching his back. Pointing behind himself, he said, “Bri is waiting for me. I’ll see everyone next week.”

Neil was too busy talking animatedly with Seth and Renee about the game to notice, so Andrew too the opportunity to stop Kevin on his way out. 

“Do me a favor…”

* * *

* * *

 

**_Neil:_ **

_I Agree._

_And, I said I was going to address this, so I’m going to._

_Andrew, I know you don’t want to talk about it, so feel free to say nothing, but I just feel like things have unfairly been said about you and about us._

_It’s not a secret that we’re in a relationship. It was something that had been building since New York, but didn’t become solid until after everything happened with Lola. Andrew’s had his motivations questioned, because of this. He’s been accused of not being able to use common sense, during this entire thing, because of whatever he may have been feeling._

_I just want to set the record straight, and say that’s bullshit._

_Andrew would’ve done everything he did and more, to find me - regardless of any connection we may have had. If you don’t know Andrew personally, you don’t know how hard he fights for what he believes in. How_ **_loyal_ ** _he is. He knows what it’s like to be beaten and kicked while you’re down. So, say what you want about_ **_me_ ** _. Say what you want about_ **_us_ ** _, even - if you’re an asshole. But, don’t call his motivations or reputation into question because of this. It’s false and unfair._

 **_Andrew:_ **

_[ long pause ]_

_I did not write any of that for him to say._

**_Neil:_ **

_[laughs]_

**_Andrew:_ **

_I - I don’t really have anything to add to that. I don’t feel like I owe anyone an explanation. I did what I did with the intention of helping someone I made a promise to, but more than that, helping a kid and a mother. That’s all I wanted. That’s what I did. Anything that happened after that is inconsequential. This…_

**_Neil:_ **

_This what?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?_

**_Neil:_ **

_I really am._

**_Andrew:_ **

_This… [ pause ] relationship… didn’t affect the investigation. Happy?_

**_Neil:_ **

_You know… I really am._

* * *

* * *

 

Neil couldn’t stop smiling. 

_Happy, happy, happy_

“Quit grinning and get your ass in position, Josten.”

Neil ran to his spot on the court and faced Andrew, who was back in goal. He didn’t know how Andrew had managed this, but they were on the Foxhole court, dressed in gear, and about to play a small game - like he used to with Matt. 

Kevin was barking orders like he owned the place and Neil didn’t even care. 

Everything was... amazing. From the giant orange paw print on the court, to the orange seats and shiny floor - he felt like he _belonged_ in this place. He felt like he wanted to lie in the middle of the court and stare up at the ceiling. 

Maybe later. Now?

He played. 

Kevin had the keys to the court somehow and Neil liked to imagine him coming here to practice with his bad hand. It’d been a long time since Kevin had played a game, but he was still so fucking sharp. Neil could tell he’d been practicing and maybe he’d never be as good as he was, but he was still better than most. 

They played for hours. Kevin managed to procure gear from somewhere and Andrew? He didn’t complain once. They ran drills and tried to get past Andrew, who Kevin was just as surprised as Neil was, to learn was a fantastic natural goalie. 

It was Kevin who finally called an end to it. ~~Which was shocking, because Andrew definitely wanted to around an hour ago.~~ “Brianna is probably blowing up my phone. I have to go,” he gestured around. “Clean up when you leave though, will you? They let me use the court as a favor, and I don’t want to fuck that up.”

Neil nodded. “Thank you for this,” he said. Kevin shook his head. 

“Thank him,” he nodded towards Andrew and Neil looked back at him. He was breathing heavily and leaning against his racquet, helmet off. When Neil looked back to Kevin, he was already through the locker room doors. 

Slowly, he approached Andrew, pulling off his own helmet and gloves, holding his racquet under one arm. 

Andrew used his wrist to push blond hair from his forehead. “Get it out of your system?” he asked. 

“Probably not,” Neil said, smiling. “But, thank you for this. I -” He shook his head and looked around, biting his lip. He decided a shrug would suffice as he asked, “Can we do it again?”

Andrew furrowed his brows and finally groaned, “We just finished! Jesus, Neil, let me catch my fuckin’ breath first.”

“Nah,” Neil smirked. “I like you weak and winded.”

Andrew just glared at him and Neil started walking backwards, grin still in place. 

He stopped in the middle of the court and finally lowered himself down, laying on the orange paw and looking up at the rafters. Gear clattered to the floor somewhere in the distance and Andrew joined him a few minutes later with most of his gear shed. Neil found Andrew’s hand and threaded their fingers together. 

“I wish I could’ve gone to college,” he eventually murmured. Then,” I wish we would’ve gone together.” He looked to Andrew, but Andrew had his eyes to the ceiling. 

“What would you have majored in?”

“Math,” Neil said, immediately. He’d always been good at math. Something about the way numbers fit together so well - like they were literally made for each other. It was also constant and reliable, logical. That was something he could appreciate. 

“Math?” Andrew scoffed, “Gross. We would’ve never met. I was too busy trying to look all dark and deep, by reading poetry in coffee shops and discreetly lusting after Charlie Daniels from afar.”

Neil furrowed his brows. _Charlie Daniels?_ Why did that sound familiar...?

_Neil felt like he could finally breathe. He had a solid plan set in motion and everything would be just that. Fine. Settling into his seat, he looked around at his surroundings and realized more people had boarded and were now sitting with him in the car than he’d realized. Swallowing hard, he pulled his backpack into his lap, locked the screen on his phone, and lifted his eyes arbitrarily. They locked with a guy sitting across the aisle. He was about his age, with tattoo sleeves on both arms, and gauge things in his ears that would have made Ashleigh swoon. The guy smiled at him and raised a brow._

_..._

_Tattoo Sleeves cleared his throat and Neil glanced at him sideways._

_“Hey. I’m Charlie,” he said, holding out a hand towards Neil._

_Neil stared at the hand in confusion._ _Did hitmen usually introduce themselves? He’d only dealt with a few, but he didn’t remember any formal introductions._

_“Charlie?”_

_“Yeah...Charlie Daniels. This is a long train ride.”_

Neil bit into his lip at the memory and wrinkled his nose. 

_Nah. Couldn’t be._

Weird coincidence is all. 

Neil moved on, “What if I’d walked into that coffee shop?” Neil asked. “Would you have lusted after _me_ instead?”

Andrew turned his head to look at him. Neil did the same. 

“Immediately. And I would’ve fucking hated you for it.”

Neil frowned, “Yeah? That hardly seems fair. I can’t help how incredibly attractive I am.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, but Neil didn’t miss the smirk in the corner of his lips. He put his free hand behind his head and shrugged. “Just a different time in my life, I guess. I was still working through things with Bee and dealing with Drake’s trial and... I don’t know. I think I probably would’ve felt like I didn’t deserve you or something. Like I couldn’t have you, because I would just ruin it like I ruined everything else.”

_No..._

Neil squeezed his hand, “You’re the opposite of ruin in my life, Andrew.”

Andrew squeezed back and returned looking at the rafters. 

Neil did the same.

* * *

* * *

 

 **_Andrew:_ **

_On that note, I think that basically covers everything. Is there anything you want to add that we didn’t talk about? I want this to be_ **_you,_ ** _telling_ **_your_ ** _story, instead of me._

 **_Neil:_ **

_I guess... I’d just want to add about my mother… I’ve seen a few asks basically asking what was wrong with her for marrying Nathan in the first place and having a kid with him - About how selfish she was for it._

_So, in the spirit of hopefully not getting anymore asks like that, I guess I would just ask, how the fuck am I supposed to know? We never really talked about it. I know she was younger than him, and he was the kind of charming, where you wouldn’t see the knife coming when he slit your throat. But I also know that she got me the hell out of there when she saw what was coming for me. She risked her life, every day, to protect me. And I know that’s what you all think mothers_ **_should_ ** _do. But -_

 **_Andrew:_ **

_Some things are just different._

**_Neil:_ **

_Yeah... And, I don’t blame her for anything. She was doing the best with what she had._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_I think this is a good time to announce what’s going to happen with the podcast after this, since you mention being a kid on the run. It took some convincing for Neil, but we’ve talked about it and agreed…_

**_Neil:_ **

_We’re going to continue, Red Rabbits. That means, we’re going to keep looking into cold cases of missing kids and see if there’s anything we can do. If we can help anyone else be found, or at least bring some closure to the families, it’d be worth it._

**_Andrew:_ **

_We were both forgotten children, once. We’ve both found lives as adults that are now beyond what we imagined we could ever live. We feel like it’s only right to pay it forward. Try to give someone else a chance. And, we’ve already started looking into cases we can try to do that with. So, we’ll be starting on that in the near future, with Neil as my co-host._

**_Neil:_ **

_Ugh. That’s weird too._

_[ laugh ]_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Tell me about it._

_[ long pause ]_

**_Andrew:_ **

_But! first, as much fun as this has all been, we need a break._

**_Neil:_ **

_Badly._

**_Andrew:_ **

_So, my partner and I are going to take some time. We’re going to leave South Carolina for a while and take a vacation. You know, not deal with anything work related. So, this is just a heads up that we’ll be missing for a bit, and we won’t be around when this episode drops - probably not much after that, until we really start on the new case. Real Dan and Dave, style._

**_Neil:_ **

_Who?_

**_Andrew:_ **

_Game of Thrones, Neil. Christ -_

**_Neil:_ **

_[ pause ]_

_Riiighhtt... Anyway, It’s my fault. I’ve never had a proper vacation so I’m making him take me on one._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Ugh. I’ll just be happy that you’re not answering asks for a few days. Give a reprieve._

**_Neil:_ **

_We’ll see._

**_Andrew:_ **

_[ hum ]_

_So, with that. I’m Andrew Minyard, and this is my_ **_co-host_ ** _, Neil Josten._

**_Neil:_ **

_And this has been the final episode of Series One - The Case of Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski._

**_Andrew:_ **

_Stay tuned for updates on the next series. Keep searching._

* * *

* * *

 

Sunday morning dawned bright through the curtains of _their_ bedroom. 

Andrew didn’t move. He laid there, on his back, one hand on Neil’s hip and the other on his own stomach. There was a quiet he didn’t want to disturb, so he basked in it, _just for a moment_ , rubbing the skin of Neil’s hip lightly. 

_We need to move soon..._

They had a flight to catch, and they still had to take the cats to Bee’s for safekeeping while they were gone. 

_Colorado_

Neil stirred and rolled over to face Andrew. He didn’t open his eyes, only buried his face deeper into the pillow and sighed. 

“We have to get up, don’t we?” he said roughly.

~~_Unfortunately._ ~~

“Yeah,” Andrew replied. “We still have to drop off Sir and King, and you’re incredibly lazy and never finished packing last night.”

Neil did open his eyes then and glared at Andrew. “And whose fault is that? You distracted me! How am I supposed to pack when you’ve got your hand-”

“Yeah, well, the point is,” Andrew cut him off, “I finished packing and _you_ didn’t. So, get your lazy ass up and finish, while I get all the cats shit together.”

Neil sat up and hit Andrew with his pillow. “Fine, jerk. Keep your hands to yourself this time.”

Andrew laughed and grabbed the pillow out of Neil’s hands and threw it to the floor. The cats both jumped off the bed, sensing imminent tomfoolery. In the process, Neil had _somehow_ fallen on top of Andrew when he’d snatched the pillow away, and Andrew wrapped his arms around him so they were chest to chest. 

“No promises,” he said quietly. Neil kissed his nose and detangled himself. 

“No, nope. Abso-fucking-lutely not. _I’m_ getting up,” He swung his legs off the bed. “And packing,” he stood up, “and _you_ ” he pointed to Andrew, “are going to go take care of the cats, and there will be _no distractions._ ”

Andrew sighed. How disappointing. 

He got off the bed on the other side and carefully made his way to pack up the cats, making sure not to trip or  step on them where they circled his legs. 

At some point or another, he caught himself still smiling and realized that he didn’t have to _stop_ himself anymore. No. Andrew was _happy_. 

~~_Weird, huh?_ ~~

An hour later, they were in the car and on their way to Bee’s, cats and luggage in tow. Andrew brought up Seth’s number and dialed via the bluetooth on the way. 

 _‘What the fucking fuck...?’_ Seth’s groggy voice came over the speaker. _‘It’s like...10AM. The fuck is wrong with you?’_

“I’m a functioning human being who wakes up at a decent hour,” Andrew shot back. Neil scoffed.

_‘Hey, fuck you. I still had a DJ gig after the game last night and I was putting finishing touches on the episode until 4 fuckin’ AM, before sending it to Dan. I work harder than all you motherfuckers give me some credit-’_

“Speaking of, did she send her approval?” Andrew interrupted. 

Of _course_ he knew how hard Seth worked. Hell, besides Dan herself, he was the real backbone of the fucking network. He mixed and put together all the podcasts, _etcetera, etcetera._ But really, Andrew was grateful for him. 

Andrew was also an asshole and needed to make sure all of this shit was taken care of before he left. ~~_Why was that so much to ask?_ ~~

Seth grumbled incoherently for a minute and Neil’s shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. 

 _‘Hold on a fucking second, let me check my email.’_ Seth came back a few seconds later _. ‘She approved and said it’s fantastic. Happy? I’ll post it tonight since everyone is out having a great fucking time.’_

~~Andrew _did not_ feel bad. Nope. ~~

“Could you? Thanks. I’m going to send you something post post from me with it. I don’t know what we’ll be doing when it goes up, but I still want to be able to say something.”

_‘Fine. Whatever. I know what you’ll be doing though-’_

“GOODBYE, Seth.” Andrew pressed the button to hang up and Neil finally let out a laugh. 

“Poor Seth. He really does need a raise or something.”

Yeah well. Andrew didn’t disagree. He was exhausting on a good day, but he was also really fucking good at his job. Well, also as someone who had to fight and claw his way to becoming a semi-normal person, he _respected_ the journey Seth had taken with his own demons. 

But.

He just shrugged in response to relay all that to Neil. 

He got the gist, Andrew was sure. 

Bee greeted them at the door and hugged them both. The feeling that swelled inside of Andrew whenever he saw Neil and Bee together was something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain. ~~_I don’t know why_ ~~ ~~.~~ Maybe it was just... Bee had been his rock for so long - had seen him through so much _trauma_ and _pain_ and _self hatred_ and... Now it felt a little like she was handing some of that off to Neil. 

He supposed...

Or something. 

Neil was busy explaining Sir’s routine to her while hugging the cat close to his chest and eventually, Andrew had to put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s watched King for me plenty of times. She knows how to take care of a cat, Neil.”

Neil sighed, “I _know_ that. But Sir and King are _different_. I just want to make sure she has everything she needs...”

Bee smiled at him and patted his arms. “I’m sure the _grandcats_ -” _the...what...?_ “And I will have a wonderful time. I’ll make sure to send lots of pictures, but right now, you two have to go. Shoo,” She literally began to shoo them off towards the door. “You deserve a vacation, so go, have fun, and _be safe_ .” She looked pointedly at Andrew while Neil set Sir down and kissed her head. Andrew gave her the best, _‘oh my_ **_god_ ** _mom’,_ look he could muster. 

-

After what felt like hours of driving and going through security and Neil nervously tapping his foot at TSA checking his ID, they were finally settled on the plane. 

“So, I was thinking,” Andrew started, pulling out his airpods and kicking his carry on under the seat in front of him. “We should stop in Arizona on the way back.”

Neil looked at him, brow furrowed and head tilting. “Arizona? Why the fuck would we go there? Planning on breaking into the snack shack and living in the past for a while?”

Andrew considered it, “While that actually sounds like a really good fucking idea, no. You should probably get your shit while we’re over there,” Andrew looked down to his phone and started pulling up the playlist Seth had put together for him.

“ _My_ shit? What are you talking about?”

“Yeah?” Andrew stopped and looked up at Neil. “From your apart-” When Neil just kept staring, Andrew nodded slowly. “Right... huh, I could’ve sworn I told you...” He really thought he had... hadn’t he? Or had it just sat in the back of his brain this entire time with all the other shit he was considerably more concerned about?

_Welp. Already opened this can of worms._

“So, uh,” Andrew nodded to the thoughts inside his head, “I paid - well, _Reynolds_ , paid the rent on your apartment in Phoenix through the rest of the year. All your stuff is just sitting there.”

Neil looked stunned. That was the right word, right...? Stunned...? Andrew really could’ve sworn he told him this - “It’s not a big deal,” he said quickly, looking back to his phone. “I broke into your apartment, after all. It was the least I could do, really.”

“Andrew... I just...” Neil shook his head and paused his words, as if to figure out the right ones. After a deep breath, he continued, “I’m sure it seems like no big deal to you, but my exy stick was in that apartment.” _I know._ “The one I played with in high school. I carried that thing around with me from place to place - On the fucking run and I carried that thing.”

“Well, that’s just because you’re an idiot,” Andrew mumbled. 

Neil laughed, smile breaking across his face and stupidly endearing crooked bottom tooth on show. “I mean, yeah. Probably. But still.” He shrugged, “And my old duffel bag and some of my mother’s old things... Thank you,” He leaned his shoulder against Andrews. “Really. I have to thank Allison, too. I thought that stuff was lost forever...”

Andrew just nodded because he didn’t really know what to say...? He was glad Neil could get his shit now, but he really just done it because he felt like an asshole, an intruder - like he’d crossed a boundary and -

Neil finally took the pod, but not before he grabbed Andrew’s hand and pressed a kiss to his wrist. Then, sinking into his seat, smile still on his lips, he popped it in. 

And Andrew? He laced their fingers together, hit shuffle on the playlist, and as the plane took off, he realized he didn’t mind this feeling of _whatever_ , and _something_ , _and and and_

Anyway.

* * *

* * *

 

_[ outro ]_

_~~I hear the drums echoing tonight~~ _  
_~~But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation~~ _  
_~~She's coming in, 12:30 flight~~ _  
_~~The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation~~ _  
_~~I stopped an old man along the way~~ _  
_~~Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies~~ _  
_~~He turned to me as if to say,~~ "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you"_

It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you  
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do  
I bless the rains down in Africa  
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

 _~~The wild dogs cry out in the night~~ _  
~~As they grow restless, longing for some solitary company~~ ****  
I know that I must do what's right  
~~As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti~~ **  
** I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become

It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you  
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do  
I bless the rains down in Africa  
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

_Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you_

It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you  
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do  
~~I bless the rains down in Africa~~  
_~~I bless the rains down in Africa~~ _  
_~~(I bless the rain)~~ _  
_~~I bless the rains down in Africa (I bless the rain)~~ _  
_~~I bless the rains down in Africa~~ _  
~~I bless the rains down in Africa (ah, gonna take the time)~~  
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... That's that. Yeah. We know.  
> That's the end of Red Rabbits, Series One: The case of Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski. Stay tuned for... what? Updates on the next series?  
> That's right, y'all. In addition to oneshots, Part 2 is coming. We've already got a few ideas, but it's on the horizon. When it'll come out? We don't know. All we know is, we need a break. We've been writing nearly 20k (more), every week, and damn. Y'all, we need to relax omfg. But! that doesn't mean the blog is going to end or content will cease. As we said, there will be oneshots spread over the next however long until Part 2 and additional content on our tumblr. That includes art, playlists, fun extras, etc. We've got a lot of ideas to keep everyone entertained and please keep sending in questions! We have plans to keep you involved, so no worries! There will be no break in the realism!  
> But, nows the time for each of our personal thank yous, our appreciations, our love, and goodbye from two of us.  
> -  
> Jeni182 -  
> Readers! I can't believe we're at the end of this fic. We've been working on it for months and it seems like it's gone by so fast! I joined this fandom at the end of 2018, and started writing fanfic in December. I've never written anything, ever. So to come into this and be so welcomed, has just been an amazing experience. Thank you to all of you who have supported us by leaving comments and kudos, interacting with the website and discord, and any of you who have just read this fic and liked it. It means so fucking much. And thank you for allowing me to play pretend with Andreil on tumblr. Seriously, Andrew speaks to my soul! We hope you'll stick around for pt2! Tiara and I are already plotting and can't wait to share with you all! LOVE YOU ALL! -Jeni  
> -  
> BloodyDamnit -  
> I'll keep saying thank you. Usually, I'm a pretty professional rambler, but I'm going to try to keep this short, because wow. I have so much to say and so few characters left! I just want to get out my eternal thank you. I only joined this fandom late last September and I've never felt so welcome. Right from the jump, you all took me in with open arms and it's been amazing. Now, to have Red Rabbits be received so lovingly by all of you, it's honestly kind of surreal. After hours of hard work, literal tears, and sleep deprivation - I can't believe we're here, at the end. And while we're saying goodbye to pt1 and saying a (not final!) goodbye to two of our creators, I hope this part lives on and people can still enjoy it as if it were happening in realtime. Thank you. truly. Red Rabbits wouldn't be what it is without y'all. -Tiara  
> -  
> SeaBear13 -  
> At the very beginning of this project, I thought 'i have no place in this group, I'm only a consumer in the fandom, I haven't written anything, I haven't even posted hcs, how can I even imagine my name next to these other creators? Not to mention, I know almost nothing about journalism, SSDGM, or podcasts let alone fic writing.' But in the way that chatting with friends can go, everything started to just roll along with story planning and ideas. The next thing I knew, Jeni and Tiara were taking my rough draft for the first podcast and weaving it into our first chapter, and it's getting posted, and people are responding and commenting and creating OCs and fanblogs and it's more than any of us could have ever imagined! Everything just snowballed from that first tiny idea to this incredible story and following!  
> I've learned so much along the way from my fellow creators about plot and planning, character depth, writing, editing, and community interaction. It's honestly been the best group project I'll probably ever be apart of! And I've learned a lot from you, the Red Rabbits community, you have given me so much joy with your comments and interactions, especially those in the discord group and sending in anons!  
> As this part of our story comes to an end, my involvement will also see it's sunset. I start grad school in a week and know that I will not be able to put the time and effort forth this project deserves and will let Tiara and Jeni all the freedom to move this story forward without me arguing about whether or not Roanoke is haunted or how long it takes to drive from NYC to Philly. I cannot wait to see where this story goes and will enjoy seeing the community giving Tiara and Jeni all the love and support they deserve for their brilliance and creativity!  
> So thank you, to the community for bringing our story into your hearts, and thank you, to my fellow creators, Tiara, Jeni and Emily, for this wild journey and including me on this adventure  
> Keep Smiling and Keep Searching. - Claire  
> -  
> Windeavesdrops -  
> It’s been an awesome ride and it has been so fantastic to see everyone jump so thoroughly on board with the fic and the tumblr and the idea and the discord and I love y’all so much ❤️-Emily


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